


If my memory serves me well

by SGE_Fic



Series: Prophecies and destiny [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Crystals, Druids, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGE_Fic/pseuds/SGE_Fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur rescues Merlin from a kidnapping, he brings a changed man back to Camelot. It's up to Gwen, Lancelot and Gwaine to set things right, but will any of them return from their quest the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If my memory serves me well

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ensemble piece with canon relationships and no slash, though there is plenty of bromance. 
> 
> I wrote this an age ago, just after season 3, so the story is following that timeline before heading off and doing its own thing…
> 
> Disclaimer - Merlin and all its characters belong to the BBC, no infringement is intended, and no financial benefit is being made.
> 
> Edited to add. I almost forgot! The lovely trisazeelee did a full trailer for this fic, which is quite brilliant, but full of spoilers...! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmqvyF21pMA

Gaius grabbed whatever potions met the criteria of ‘useful for first aid’, and ‘immediately to hand’, before stuffing them into his curiously conical bag and fumbling hurriedly with the fastenings. His fingers worked clumsily, and he tutted in frustration as one of the straps refused to fit into its ornate buckle. Then he stopped himself, forcing his shaking hands to still for a minute, resting on the cool leather surface. He closed his eyes and took a breath. 

Everything would be fine.

Opening his eyes again, he resolutely went back to the buckle, doing it up easily, and then slung the bag onto his shoulder before turning and making quickly for the door. 

It was Sir Leon who had told him that Arthur’s raiding party had been sighted returning to the castle, and that one of the younger knights, with eyes that only the young seemed blessed with, had spotted the familiar brown, red and blue apparel of Arthur’s missing servant sitting among the burgundy and silver hues of Camelot’s finest. 

Three days Merlin had been missing now, three days since Alvarr’s men had snatched him, practically from Arthur’s side, as the prince had been out in the Western Woods investigating reports that King Alstor had been raising an army. Camelot was still seen as weak by its neighbours following Morgana’s failed uprising. Alstor would not be the only monarch to test its borders and its resilience in those tempestuous days, though he had been the first. 

Alvarr, on the other hand was likely to have more sinister motives than caring about the weakness of Uther’s reign. From what little Gaius knew of him, and from what he’d try to do last time he was in Camelot, he probably had a grander scheme than the kingdom’s bickering neighbours. This had, after all been no accidental kidnapping. 

Previously, Alvarr had used his natural charisma to bend both Mordred and Morgana to his will; using others’ powers to do much of his work for him. With this attack, Merlin had been targeted, and for all that Arthur and his men supposed he’d been taken for ransom, or for information, Gaius knew it could be no coincidence that of them all, Alvarr had selected the only man with magic, and he feared dark motivations were at play.

It had done little to soothe his worry when Arthur returned from his initial mission to bring back his servant with no Merlin, but Alvarr himself and five of his men in tow. The sorcerer had been heavily questioned for hours without success. It was one of his men who had eventually broken under the onslaught, and given the location that Merlin was being held. That had been the previous evening, and Arthur had ridden straight out with 10 of his best knights, oblivious to the words of dissent from his war council over the effort being taken to find one servant and the distraction it was causing, particularly when trouble was brewing on Camelot’s borders. Had Uther been in his normal mind, it is likely that Arthur would have been forbidden from riding out at all. 

But Uther was not in his right mind. He had been confined to his chambers for two weeks now, a Morgana’s betrayal leaving him a broken man showing little interest in the running of his once beloved kingdom. Gaius had prescribed him rest and dosed him with sedating brews to help him sleep, but he was not improving.

Not that Gaius’ mind was on the king right at that moment. Now all he cared about was getting Merlin back, hopefully none the worse for his ordeal. 

He came out into the bright courtyard, the light reflecting off the white stones dazzling him briefly as he passed through the doors. The first of the knights were just trotting in under the main archway, and he was relieved to see that they appeared uninjured, though the horses looked tired. Gaius didn’t know where Arthur had been sent, but clearly it was some distance away. 

He looked around the faces coming in, eager to pick Merlin out and reassure himself that he had indeed been found. Then he saw him, and his face broke into an inadvertent smile at the sight he’d been longing to see for three whole days. 

But the smile quickly faded. Something was wrong. 

Merlin was on horseback with the others, but he was not riding on his own. One of the younger knights – Gaius thought his name was Sir Graham – was riding with him and holding him. Merlin stood out as being more dishevelled than the knights; his clothes and face were streaked with dirt. But it wasn’t his appearance that Gaius was concentrating on; it was his manner. Merlin was staring at his horse’s neck showing absolutely no interest in his surroundings, and even as they came closer, he never once looked up or around. He seemed wrong somehow, and very changed from the alert young man Gaius had seen ride off only three days ago. 

Gaius was about to call his name worriedly, when he heard his own name, and looked around to see Arthur trotting up towards him. The young prince was looking tired and weather beaten, mud splattering his armour, but he jumped from his horse with energy, leaving the reigns to a waiting servant.

“Gaius,” he said again, coming up. “We need your help with Merlin.” 

Gaius watched with concern as Sir Graham slid the young warlock down into the waiting arms of two more knights. He staggered, but remained on his feet. His expression, however, didn’t change, and he did nothing to move or look about. 

“What happened to him?” Gaius asked, going to Merlin and lifting up his chin so that he could look into his eyes. He stared back blankly, not showing any recognition. “Is he injured?” 

“Only his hands,” Arthur said firmly. 

Gaius glanced down and noticed for the first time that Merlin’s filthy hands were bound with rough strips of cloth, blood showing through in places. He noticed also that his fingernails were black and broken. Then the knights who were holding him began walking him slowly to a waiting stretcher. 

“What happened to his hands?” Gaius asked, watching his nephew’s numb steps with confusion. 

“We found him in a cave,” Arthur explained. “He’d cut his hands on the rock inside.” 

“What sort of cave?” Gaius asked sharply. 

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it as he heard his name called from the other side of the courtyard. He looked up to see Sir Leon striding towards him purposefully. Turning, Arthur clapped Gaius firmly on the back. “Do what you can for him,” he said, looking to where his servant was already being carried away towards Gaius’ chambers. “Anything you need shall be provided.” Then he walked away.

“Thank you sire,” Gaius said, clutching his still closed bag tightly to his chest. Then he shook himself, and hurried off after the stretcher. 

***

“Sir Leon, what news?”

“Sire,” Leon greeted him, then swivelled to match his step, walking with him back towards the citadel. “King Alstor has launched his first raiding party on one of our outlying villages.”

Arthur’s face hardened. He had hoped that Alstor’s mustering of men had been all for show, but it seemed he was not to be so lucky. “Were there many casualties?” he asked, as they reached the long flight of steps up to the main door.

“Details are sketchy at the moment, sire. We received this news less than an hour ago. But it would appear that at least three are dead, and some livestock was taken.” 

“So not a serious invasion force yet then?” 

“It would seem not. He may be, as we guessed, simply testing our borders to see how strong our resolve is to protect the kingdom’s outlying reaches.”

“Hm,” Arthur said, as they passed through the door. “Well, I think he will find our resolve more than a match. Have my war council assembled in the great hall in one hour. I’ll meet you there.”

“Yes sire,” he bowed his head. 

***

Gaius had them place Merlin on his table first of all, and asked them to send Guinevere in to help him. Before she arrived, he set out examining him for injuries, and then the two of them together bathed him, cleaned and bandaged his cut hands, and laid him in his own bed propped up by pillows. Throughout it all, his eyes remained open and his face vacant, and he responded to nothing, not a shouted voice or a tender hand, not even Gaius pinching him. Only occasionally, a slight and almost imperceptible shiver would seem to pass through him, and his eyes would widen a little. But then it would pass and he would return to his previous state as though nothing had happened. 

They did manage to get him to drink, and through much coaxing and patience, as if feeding a small child, to swallow a few mouthfuls of food. But apart from that, it was as though Arthur had brought a stranger home to their midst, a figure who might have been carved from wood, or stuffed with cloth. But that he had Merlin’s face, there was nothing else about him familiar.

“What is it, Gaius?” Gwen asked finally. They were sitting, her on the left of the bed and him on the right. “What could cause him to be like this?” 

“I don’t know, child,” Gaius admitted. “I thought initially he might have suffered a terrible injury that had caused him to go into shock, but apart from his hands, there isn’t a mark on him. I can only guess that it must be an affliction of the mind, but what could have caused it I have no idea. It’s certainly not like anything I’ve ever seen before.” 

“Arthur said the man who took him was a sorcerer?” 

“Alvarr? Yes, a very powerful one from the little I know of him.” 

“Could this be the result of magic?”

“I suppose that could be one explanation. But to what end?”

“And why Merlin?” Gwen wondered. “What could this Alvarr possibly gain by doing this to him?” 

“I don’t know,” Gaius muttered, but as Gwen looked at him, it seemed a moment of clarity passed over his face. Then the look faded as quickly as it had appeared and an unreadable expression returned. He got to his feet. “I must see Arthur,” he said. “And find out more about where Merlin was found. Will you sit with him until I return?” 

“Of course,” she insisted. “For as long as you need.” Her position in the Royal Household was now one of general servant since Morgana’s departure, so there was no one specifically to miss her just for the moment. “If there’s any change at all, I’ll come and find you.” 

***

The guards pushed open the large doors to the main council chambers with a clang before Gaius passed through, but the hall itself was so full of noise that no one noticed. The physician paused briefly, looking about to see who was seated or standing around the table, and the doors closed behind him.

Arthur looked up, more through the change of air in the room caused by the swinging doors rather than the noise, and acknowledged his father’s most trusted adviser with a mere nod of his head, before returning his attention to the discussion. 

“King Alstor’s raiding parties are not our only problem,” Sir Leon was saying. “King Lyser has sent envoy’s demanding a meeting between himself and Uther with all possible speed.” 

“He would prove that my father still lives,” Arthur reasoned. “Rumours of his untimely death at the hands of the immortal army are circulating quite widely now. Very well. Send envoys back inviting Lyser here in two-week’s time. Say that the affairs of the kingdom mean that meeting earlier is quite impossible. Hopefully my father will be up to the event by then, but if he’s not then we can make further plans closer to the time.”

“Cenrid’s lands too are suffering a wave of uprisings,” Sir Elyum broke in. “Some say that men are rallying to the call of a new banner, but such chaos reigns in the region, it is hard to say what is truth anymore.” 

Gaius thought briefly of his sister, but comforted himself with remembering that Ealdor was only an outlying village in Cenrid’s kingdom, and a poor one at that, unlikely to excite the attention of new rulers. And Hunnith after all was a smart woman. She knew to come to Camelot if need pressed her.

He snapped back into the conversation just as Arthur was saying: “Now with Alvarr gone as well, I suppose we can expect trouble from the north as well. I only wish I knew what his purpose in Camelot had been.” 

“Alvarr’s gone, my lord?” Gaius asked loudly. 

The knights turned to him, one or two looked faintly guilty.

“Yes, he escaped last night.” 

“Didn’t you hear the warning bell?” Leon wondered. 

“I heard it,” Gaius snapped. “But to be honest it has become more of a nightly nuisance than a warning these days. I can scarce remember having a complete night of sleep for weeks without that clanging waking me at 2am. What about his men?” 

“Dead, all of them,” Arthur said. “He didn’t want to leave any loose ends, obviously. God knows how he did it of course, or how he escaped – improving those cells really does have to be a priority when we have the time.” 

“I see,” Gaius looked dejected. He had hoped another interrogation might have revealed more about the sorcerer’s motives. It left more of a mystery, and made his situation more desperate. “Sire,” he looked at Arthur pointedly. “If I could spare a moment of your time?” 

“Yes, of course Gaius. Gwaine, would you fill the council in on our recent journey to the White Mountains. They may find our encounter with the bandits particularly interesting.” He stepped down from his throne and moved to intercept Gaius as he made his way around the side of the table. They walked away from the others so that they could speak privately. “How is Merlin?” 

“There’s no change sire. He is as he was, no reaction to anything, no recognition. Nothing.” 

“Yes, that’s how he was when we found him. I couldn’t understand it. Nothing we did made any difference. It’s like he’s asleep with his eyes open.”

“Can you tell me more about how you found him, sire. It was in the White Mountains?” 

“Near enough. Alvarr’s man sent us to a location in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” 

“Of course, sire.” 

“He was quite cryptic about the whole thing, spoke in riddles, said that we would find him beneath the ground where the three children cry.”

Gaius looked a little confused. “Why didn’t you come to me with this riddle?” 

“Well – I wanted to set out straight away,” Arthur sounded a little guilty. “I’m afraid I acted rather impulsively to be honest, riding out in the dark with 10 good knights just to look for one servant. But I just didn’t like the thought of waiting any longer. We rode straight for the valley, and reached it a little before dawn. Gives me the creeps that place so I was glad we weren’t having to go in when it was dark. We left the horses with two to guard them, and the rest of us set out to solve the riddle.”

“And what was the answer?” 

“It proved all too simple I have to say. It was Lancelot who found them, three carvings of children’s faces done right into the rock, one above the other, all weeping stone tears. We figured that under the ground probably meant in a tunnel or cave, so we were looking for an entrance, and near to the carving we found this huge rock that looked like it had been recently moved; the ground was all gouged up round about it. We pushed it back, and behind it was the mouth to a cave.”

“You went in?” 

“Yes, all of us.” 

“And what did you see?” Gaius was practically holding his breath. 

“It was – amazing. The cave was full of these crystals, Gaius, glowing like they were alive, all around us. Just endless, beautiful crystals. They wouldn’t have looked out of place on a royal necklace, but here they were in this muddy, forgotten cave in the middle of a dead valley where nobody ever goes. It was eerie. We even forgot to speak for a while, we were all so moved by it.”

“But that’s where you found Merlin?” 

“Yes, we saw him eventually, sitting crouched on the ground. I shouted his name, but he didn’t move, he didn’t do anything. We went up to him, and his eyes seemed fixed on the crystal wall in horror. He was making these little gasping sounds, as if whatever he was looking at was terrifying – but it was just stone, Gaius.

“Then we noticed there was blood on the crystals around him, and I reached out and pulled his hands away from the rock. He’d been holding it so tightly that the sharp edges had cut into his skin. It must have been painful, but he gave no reaction to that either. We got him up, and we got him out of there as quickly as we could. He seemed to recover a little once we were outside, and we took him back to the horses – which is when we were ambushed by the bandits I should add, though we fought them off quickly enough – and straight back to Camelot.” 

“I see.” 

“Does that give you any more clues? Have you any idea what this cave might be, or whether those crystals had anything to do with it? Certainly they looked strange to me.” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Arthur considered him with questioning eyes, seeing the thought processes going on behind his stony mask. “Well, you’ll just have to do the best you can. Maybe time will be the best healer in this case – unless we can recapture Alvarr and force him to tell us what’s happened. Anyway, I must return to the council. I will try and pop by later, so how he’s getting on.” 

“Yes sire,” Gaius bowed slightly, but it was a distracted action. His brain was putting the pieces together as fast as it was able, and already, before he had left the hall even, an answer had formed itself to the terrible questions posed by that morning. 

The crystal cave.

He was sure of it. From Merlin’s descriptions earlier in the year, and now Arthur’s words, it could be no other place. The birthplace of magic, used by seers of old to view times past, times present, and times future. Few now lived who could control such things, and Merlin was the only one he knew of. It could not be a coincidence. 

As he crossed the courtyard to return to his room, he felt an icy fear begin to seep through him, striking his very bones, his marrow freezing with a slow creep of terror. Alvarr had been trying force Merlin to tell him the future. That was it: it must be. Why else kidnap a mere servant and imprison him in such an impractical location if not with a very specific purpose. How Alvarr had found out about Merlin’s ability, or the location of the crystal cave, was anyone’s guess, but he was sorcerer himself. He had travelled hundreds of miles, undertaken a huge risk, put his men at danger, and all for what? What was he wanting to know? What was he trying to make Merlin tell him? 

But something had gone wrong. Alvarr had been captured miles from the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and inside Camelot’s border. Why had he abandoned Merlin to the cave? Was it a punishment because he would not submit, or was he forced to leave him; pushed out by the same bandits that had attacked Arthur, perhaps. And what on earth would such a place have done to the boy over hours, days? Being forced to watch those terrible visions playing over and over in his head with no let up and no hope of escape. No wonder it had driven him to this state. 

Gaius paused outside the thick wooden door to his room, resting a hand briefly, feeling the roughness of the wood under his rough hand. He had no idea had to cure him. If that was the sickness, if that was what had happened, then there maybe was no cure. This was magical illness, and he was no sorcerer. His command of magic was negligible, absolute emergencies and that was it. No amount of herbs or cleverly mixed potions were going to do the job this time. 

He closed his eyes, feeling defeated. Then he pushed open the door. 

***

For two days Gaius struggled to find a answer, a way to wake Merlin and bring him back to the reality that everyone else took for granted. He scrutinized book after book, pulling the dusty tomes from his shelves and leaving them in untidy piles. But he found nothing new or helpful on the subject of the Crystal Cave. All the books said was that sorcerers of old had utilised the crystals to help them better understand the world around them. If they spoke of danger, it was cryptically: 

“It is said that the crystals could reveal to those that had power over them, truths of the past, present and even the future. They were considered to be a potent magical device, and even those with great ability had to take great care in their use less they lost themselves in the crystals’ bright promises.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Gaius sighed, slamming the book shut in frustration. 

He looked up at Gwen who was still sitting at Merlin’s side as she had been the whole time, talking to him, reading to him, sometimes simply holding his hand quietly. 

Merlin himself hadn’t changed, except to grow weaker. Whatever he was seeing inside his head, whatever was keeping him like this, was slowly sucking the life from him, and would eventually drain him to the point of death. 

They were all reacting to it differently: Gwen caring, Gwaine angry. But the one who was reacting the worst was Arthur. He’d visited and chatted away as if nothing was wrong, but Gwen knew that he wasn’t coping as well as his firm-set jaw, and fake smile were suggesting. She’d tried to talk to him about it, but he’d pushed her away saying that he had affairs of state to deal with, and could it wait until later? 

She knew what it was. Arthur was a man of action, he was someone who would fight any monster, undertake any quest, face any fear to achieve what he needed to. But this time there were no monsters to fight. This time his friend was just slipping away in front of his eyes and they were all powerless to prevent it. 

Meanwhile, the cares of his kingdom were just as overwhelming, and parties of knights left regularly to patrol the outlying reaches, bringing stories of death and destruction whenever they returned. Arthur was distracted, but he struggled along, commanding his men as he would normally, but showing less patience and more anger as time went on. 

Eventually, Gwen became incredibly frustrated by him, by all of them, all these men hiding their emotions, and carrying on as if nothing was happening. In particular, she focussed her attention on Gaius. She had seen him working to find a solution, had snuck a look at his research whenever he left the room to visit the king or to report to Arthur. But she had her suspicions that Gaius knew more than he was telling them, and on the third day since Merlin had returned, she decided to confront him. 

She came down from Merlin’s room to find Gaius mixing something over his burner, the potion bubbling away, sending streams of smoke into the air and smelling pungent. 

“What’s that?” she asked, laying a plate down on the workbench, most of the food still on it. 

“Mm?” Gaius glanced over at her, then at the plate, and sighed. “Oh it’s – something for the king,” he said. “He was doing better this morning, asked more questions about Arthur. I thought I’d try him on a new mixture.” 

“I see.” Gwen watched him for a few seconds as he placed something into a large pestle and mortar and began to grind it. 

“Have you tried anything new on Merlin?” she asked quietly, trying to feel her way into the conversation. 

“No,” Gaius said tiredly. “Nothing I’ve tried so far has any impact. I’m afraid…” he stopped, eyes staring at nothing for a minute. “I’m afraid there may be nothing more that we can do for him,” he concluded softly. 

“But you can’t give up!” Gwen said passionately. 

“I can’t help him, Gwen,” he insisted. “I don’t know how.” 

“But you know what’s wrong with him, don’t you?” she threw in unexpectedly. 

He turned to her, shocked. “What?” 

“I’m sorry,” she looked away, not quite having the courage of her convictions. 

“You think I am concealing his ailment?” Gaius asked her directly. “Well if you do, speak up, Gwen.” 

She looked back at him, biting her lip, feeling her emotions threaten to overwhelm her. She tried a different tack. “Arthur’s going nearly out of his mind with worry,” she said. 

“We all are,” Gaius insisted, verging on anger. 

“Yes but…” she broke off again, and then swallowed. “Have you noticed how oddly he’s acting? He’s losing his temper, shouting at servants, barely letting any of the knights get a word in during council sessions. I swear if this keeps up, some of them won’t stay. It’s not what they signed up for. Arthur’s become a different man in only two days.” 

“We all can act differently under stress, Gwen,” Gaius soothed. “The people will understand that. These are dangerous times.” 

“But this is different,” she insisted. “It’s – I think it’s the first time he’s realised how important Merlin is to him, really, really realised. Not just as someone to order around and clean his armour, but as a friend, Gaius, someone to give him advice and back him up. There are few people who will tell a prince when he’s being an idiot. Merlin used to do it without a second thought. Now all Arthur’s got is a bunch of people telling him he’s right all the time.”

“Well, he will just have to learn how to get along on his own for a while.” 

She glanced away again. “It’s not just that,” she went on hesitatingly. “He’s worried about what’s happened – confused that there doesn’t seem to be a cure, that nothing is helping. He likes problems he can solve. Give him a dangerous task or a quest and he’ll dive right in. Whatever this is,” she indicated Merlin’s room. “He can’t fix it, and seeing this happen to someone he cares about, watching him slip away hour by hour… I just don’t know how he’s going to cope.” 

Gaius sighed. “Gwen, I am doing everything I can to help Merlin. You must believe that.” 

“I do,” she nodded intently, taking a step forward. “Gaius you’ve always said Merlin’s like a son to you, and you’re the finest physician in all this land. I’m sure you’re giving him excellent care. But – “

“But what?” Gaius asked sharply.

Gwen hesitated. She respected Gaius, probably more than any man living. What she had to say was hard for her. “It’s just a feeling,” she said. “I just – from the things you’ve said – the books you’ve been reading – it just seems to me that you might have figured out what’s causing this, and you’re not telling us. And if that’s the case, you must be doing it to protect Merlin. I can’t imagine from what, but it must be pretty big for you to risk his life like this.” 

Gaius looked ready to object, but she barrelled on over him. 

“Because that’s what you’re doing Gaius,” she said. “If you do know what’s wrong with him, and you’re not saying for whatever reason, then you’re risking his life. Please, Gaius, I’m begging you. Whatever it is, you’ve got to tell me. Maybe I can help you, maybe I can’t, but please tell me the truth.” 

She looked at Gaius with such pleading eyes, that the old man was desperately torn, and for a moment almost confessed everything. Then he just shook his head. “I’m sorry Gwen, I can’t.” 

She blinked, and abruptly turned away, nodding her head as if it was the answer she’d been expecting. But as she strode away towards the door, Gaius closed his eyes and sighed, feeling suddenly, very old. She was right. The point had come when protecting Merlin’s secret was as useless as a broken lace. The boy was going to die. And what would that do for the future of Camelot and a destiny that had been written long before his lowly birth? Maybe this is where it started, this was where their story became a legend. Maybe it started with Gwen. 

“Merlin has magic, Guinevere,” he said in a low, but commanding voice. 

Gwen had been almost at the door, but she stopped, instantly and spun back, a look of horror on her face. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “What?” 

“He has magic,” Gaius said again, making for one of his wooden stools, and sitting heavily “That’s the secret I was protecting.” 

“But – how?” Gwen was aghast. Every experience of magic she’d ever had, had ended in tragedy. “That’s not possible Gaius, whatever you’ve seen – you must be wrong. No one could learn magic in this kingdom, not so close to Uther, not right under Arthur’s nose!” 

“Merlin was born with magic,” Gaius tried to explain lightly. “He didn’t learn it, not here, not in Ealdor. It is part of who he is, as unique to him as his face or his fingers.” 

“But…” Gwen came forward, still trying to deny it. “Gaius, magic is – corrupting – it’s evil. Merlin has probably the kindest heart of any man I know. He can’t have magic. I won’t believe it!” 

“Magic isn’t evil Gwen,” he sighed, knowing that this was going to be hard for her to understand. “The evil is in the heart of the person who uses it. I know you’ve had a bad experience with what happened with you and Morgana, but that is only one story. Magic has many stories. It’s just you’ve never heard them. Uther banned magic because he feared it, and some magic is indeed to be feared. But with the bad, he banned the good, the magic that is transforming, that saves lives, that is every bit as noble and heroic and worthy of praise as a knight on horseback. That is the type of magic that Merlin uses. He’s saved Arthur’s life with it I don’t know how many times. And your life. And my life if it comes to that. 

“You’re right, he has a kind heart, and the magic will never change that, you must believe me, Gwen. Merlin is not evil. But he is magic.” 

Gwen sat down in front of Gaius, trying to stamp down her horror and listen to what he was saying. “And he was born with it? He had no choice?” 

“Yes, very unusual that. In fact it’s the only time I’ve ever heard of it happening. People who have magic, and there are still many in this world who do, usually have to work at it, study it, it comes to them later in life, and it takes an effort. When I met Merlin he could use his magic without thinking. It was as natural to him as breathing – still is.” 

Gwen closed her eyes and shook her head a little. She would have to store this information away to process it later. For now, there was a more pressing issue. “But what does Merlin’s magic have to do with any of this? Is this a magical illness?” 

“I believe so,” Gaius confirmed. “But I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I’m going on guess work, but from what I’ve learnt from Arthur, I believe Alvarr was trying to force Merlin to tell him the future.” 

“Merlin can see the future?” Gwen was awed.

“He’s shown some skill for it. The ability to see the future comes from the use of crystals – but you need to be a powerful sorcerer to be able to control them. There is one such crystal locked in the vaults of Camelot, and Merlin once looked into that crystal and saw terrible visions of the future. That crystal came from a mystical cave that legend says is the birthplace of magic, a powerful place: source of prophecies for the sorcerers of old. From Arthur’s description, I believe that when they found Merlin, he was in that cave.” 

“But how would this Alvarr know that Merlin could tell the future? No one even knows he can use magic. Did someone find out that he’d looked into the crystal before?” 

“It’s unlikely. But Merlin has seen the future one other time. Do you remember just before Morgana’s last birthday when Merlin and Arthur were chased by bandits? Arthur had led them into the Valley of the Fallen Kings to escape, but he was injured. Merlin met a man named Taliesin who helped cure Arthur, and while he was recovering, Taliesin took Merlin to the Crystal Cave. He told me afterwards that he’d seen visions there of Morgana attempting to kill Uther.” 

Gwen was aghast. “So – he saw what has just happened, Morgana trying to take over the kingdom? Why didn’t he warn us?” 

“No, what Merlin saw would have come to pass months ago, but he prevented it. But the effect it had on him, being in the cave, seeing what he saw, it was profound Gwen. And he was only in the cave for minutes. I fear Alvarr had him trapped him in the cave for hours, days even. If he’d been in the cave all that time, with visions of the future bombarding him from all sides, it could well explain the state he’s in now. If you were forced to watch your friends suffering or dying over and over again and you couldn’t escape it, I think it would be enough to drive anyone mad.” 

Gwen breathed out slowly, overawed by all the information she was being given, but her natural care for her friends kicked in. “How do we fix it?” 

Gaius shook his head. “I’m not sure we can,” he said. “This is of the old religion. Certainly I do not have the knowledge or the ability to cure him. It’s as if, whatever he saw in the crystals was so terrible, his mind has just not been able to cope with it. He’s shut down, and not a single thing I have done has had any effect at all in bringing him back.”

“There must be something we can do,” Gwen insisted. “Someone we can go to. What about that man you mentioned, the one who helped Arthur?” 

“Taliesin?” he smiled. “What I didn’t tell you is that Taliesin has been dead for 300 years. I’ve never quite figured out how he managed to appear to Merlin, but then I’ve found a lot of things happen around Merlin that I can’t explain.” 

“Who else might be able to help them? Who else has magic? There must be someone?”

Gaius shrugged “I suppose the druids might have retained that level of knowledge, but you’d never persuade a druid to come to Camelot.”

“Then we’ll have to take Merlin to them,” Gwen said, determined. 

“It’s too dangerous, Gwen. Besides, the knights have orders to kill druids on sight. Uther believes they are his mortal enemies. How would you explain why we were sending Merlin to see them?”

“If the druids are his only hope, then we’ll just have to figure something out. It’s what he’d do for us, Gaius, you know he would.”

Gaius smiled sadly at her gentle determination, her loyal friendship, which was shining through despite the revelations she’d just heard. She’d been able to accept Merlin as a sorcerer almost without a second thought, and already she was fighting for his life. 

She got up, and started to pace decisively. “Can we not tell Arthur the truth?” 

“No, that you must not do,” he commanded. “It is Merlin’s destiny to use his magic to protect Arthur and ensure that he becomes king. If he were to be discovered, Uther would have him killed. For both their sakes, the magic must be kept secret.” 

Gwen sighed, frustrated. “Any of the knights then. There must be someone we can trust.” 

Gaius nodded, the thought suddenly striking him. “Yes – Lancelot.” 

“What?” 

“Lancelot knows Merlin’s secret. Heaven knows how he found out; Merlin muttered something about Griffins and some people having damned good hearing. But anyway, he knows.” 

Gwen’s heart sank just a little, but she smiled as genuinely as she could. “Well, there’s one knight that we could take with us.”

“What are you planning?” 

She put her hands together determinedly. “I’ll take him to the druids, Gaius. I’ll tell Arthur something – something like you know someone who lives in a distant village who you think can help Merlin. He’ll believe me.” 

“He won’t let you go, Gwen. It’s too dangerous. In any case, Merlin isn’t strong enough to leave his bed.”

“Then we take his bed with us,” she insisted. “We’ll take a – a cart. And it’ll be less dangerous with just one or two good knights there for protection.” 

“Perhaps you could take Gwaine as well,” he suggested. 

“Gwaine knows the truth?” 

“I don’t think so. But I know that Merlin trusts him. He would not give your destination away, and if he discovered Merlin’s secret, I believe he would keep it.” 

“Okay then. Well, there’s no time to waste. I’d better go and tell Arthur straight away.” She made to leave. 

“Gwen,” Gaius said, and she turned back. But he was speechless suddenly, the weight of everything that had passed between them stopping his words. 

She smiled in understanding, knowing that the secrets he had just told her were immense, knowing that he had been keeping these secrets to himself and holding them to his heart for years, as you would protect a child. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “Thank you for having enough trust in me.” 

He nodded, smiling back, hoping that he’d made the right decision. 

***

“Absolutely not.” 

“Arthur…” 

“Gaius must be out of his mind thinking I would allow you to go on a journey like this. The danger would be immense!” 

“It wasn’t Gaius’ idea, it was mine.” 

He paused, looking at her. “But you said it was Gaius’ friend…” 

“Yes it is,” she thought quickly. “Gaius didn’t tell me about him at first, I think he thought it was too dangerous for anyone to go. But I sensed there was something he wasn’t saying. Merlin is – much worse today,” she saw Arthur’s jaw clench slightly. “So I begged Gaius to tell me if he knew of any way at all that he could be cured. That’s when he told me about this friend.” 

“And you won’t tell me which village it is he lives in?” 

“No. Gaius wanted to protect this friend. His methods, in the past, have brought him unwanted attention, and he needs to remain anonymous.” 

Arthur tilted his head slightly to the side. “You mean he practices magic,” he stated unhappily. 

“Yes, I think he did once. But not now. Gaius swears that he’s given up magic, but that his success rate with illnesses of this kind has always been good. Please Arthur. It may be Merlin’s only chance.” 

Arthur let out a breath, sensing defeat at the hands of a superior opponent. “You really believe that?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she insisted. “Merlin’s done so much for all of us, Arthur. I can’t sit by and watch him die. You can’t take him, not with so much going on: King Alstor attacking every day, rumours coming from Mercia. You’re needed here. Gaius isn’t strong enough. I can do this. Let me do this one thing.” 

He looked down, unwilling to lose her as well, but knowing that if he kept her here, and Merlin died when she might have saved him, she would never forgive him. And that he would not be able to live with either. 

“Alright,” he agreed with great reluctance. “But you will take knights with you.” 

Her face lit up with gratitude. “Oh, thank you, Arthur,” she said. “Thank you!” 

“I would suggest a small contingent of knights. Any more might rouse too much attention.” 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I was thinking just Lancelot and Gwaine.” 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Why those two?” 

“They are both good friends of Merlin’s. Both valiant men.” 

“Well, yes, but you could say that of any knight.” 

“But they are both good friends of Merlin’s,” she said again, meaningfully. 

Arthur took her meaning. He’d seen how both Gwaine and Lancelot had been moping around on their duties these past few days. Perhaps this would snap them out of it. And at least she was not asking to go away with Lancelot on his own. In any case, surely they were past that? What was between him and Gwen now, no man could rip asunder. 

He smiled at her. “Gwain and Lancelot it is,” he said. “When do you leave?” 

***

It took them a few hours to get everything together, and for Gwen to sort out the cart and get it set up so that its passenger would be comfortable. She created a bed of furs and commandeered a whole stack of blankets to lie on top until it was fit almost for a king. 

Gwain and Lancelot had been both eager and willing to accompany her on her mission, and they quickly put together their own equipment for the journey. Gaius packed them provisions, and put together a small bag for Merlin, before sitting with him until Gwen could get the cart ready to leave. 

It seemed to him that Merlin had shrunk in the last few days, his body collapsing in on itself under the strain of what was going on in his head. Gaius stroked his hand tenderly, looking at his vacant face, hoping again for some sign of recognition, and being disappointed. 

“You know, there are many paths a man must tread in his life,” he spoke to him quietly. “Some are dark and full of unseen dangers that seem to lurk in every shadow. And some are light, and joyful. But there is no more terrible a path then the one a man must walk alone. Wherever you are, my boy, know that you have such friends here who are willing to do anything to help you, who would risk everything.” He looked down. “I’m sorry that I told Gwen your secret. But I could not let you die, Merlin. Not like this. No secret is worth your death. And now there is a chance.” He smiled slightly. “You have a chance.” 

A squeak of the door on its hinges caused him to look up, and there were two knights standing there. 

“Yes?” 

“Guinevere asked us to tell you that everything is ready. We are to take Merlin to her.” 

“Yes,” Gaius said, taking another look at his nephew, and placing a hand on his head. “Yes.” 

***

“So where is this village exactly that Gaius is sending us?” Gwaine called. He was riding to the right of the cart as Gwen drove it, with Lancelot scouting ahead to make sure the road was clear. 

Gwen tightened her grip on the reigns. They were three hours out of Camelot and making good progress. The summer suns had hardened the roads making passage relatively easy, even for a cart, and rumours of war had kept most people close to their own villages, meaning they’d met or seen no one in over an hour now. 

“What if I told you that we weren’t going to a village?” Gwen said to him, testing the waters. 

“Oh?” 

She squeezed her lips together and looked over at him. “What if I told you we were going to find the druids?” 

Gwaine looked at her with a small smile on his lips. “The druids. Really? And why are we doing that exactly? I thought everyone in Camelot was supposed to hate and fear the druids.” 

She shrugged. “That’s why they all think we’re going to see some friend of Gaius’ in a distant village.” 

Gwain smirked. “You and Gaius been cooking up stories? I’ve obviously got a lot to learn about the pair of you, pulling a fast one like that on Arthur. I thought it was all truth, honour and nobility in Camelot. You’re quite ruining my high ideals.” 

Gwen looked a little distressed. “I don’t like lying to him,” she confessed. “But it’s necessary for Merlin’s sake. I can’t tell Arthur we’re going looking for druids.” 

“And why are we taking him to the druids, exactly?” Gwaine wondered. “They know a cure for whatever it is he’s got?” 

“Gaius hopes so,” she said. 

“What is it anyway? Gwain glanced back at his friend in the cart, lying almost hidden among the blankets. 

“Gaius isn’t sure,” Gwen said, following his gaze. “But he fears it may be something magical, and the druids are the only ones now who have the kind of knowledge to heal a magical ailment.” 

Gwain sniffed, averting his eyes from Merlin, finding his still form unnerving. “That would make sense, Alvarr being a sorcerer and all. Seems a lot of effort for him to go to just to curse Arthur’s servant, though, or whatever he’s done to him.”

“Yes,” Gwen agreed with him. “It is odd.” 

Gwain slid her a sideways look, suspecting that something wasn’t being said, but he just smiled as Gwen blushed slightly under his scrutiny. “Well it’s a brave thing you’re doing, Gwen, taking him like this. It’s not safe out here.” 

She smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me?” 

“Ah yes,” she shot back. “But who’s going to protect you from me?” 

She opened her mouth, incredulous, but then a voice rang clear down the road. 

“I am!” 

The both turned to see Lancelot on his horse in front of them, clearly having heard every word they were saying. Gwen’s blush deepened slightly, and she pulled on the reigns to stop the horse. At her side, Gwain just laughed in amusement. 

She cleared her throat to cover her embarrassment. “So, what’s the road like ahead?” she asked. 

Lancelot shot dark eyes between the two of them. “Much like the road here,” he said. “Empty and friendless.” 

“Good,” she said, urging to horse on once more. “We’ve still got many miles to go before dark.” 

*** 

Lancelot poked the fire unenthusiastically, and turned to look at Gwen. She was sleeping now, worn out by the journey and her worry. She’d spent an hour that evening just trying to persuade Merlin to eat. 

“Now come on,” they’d both heard her say to him. “You’ve got to keep your strength up for when we find the druids. And we are going to find them, and they’re going to know how to fix this Merlin; they’re going to make you better. But that’s not going to happen if you don’t eat now, is it. Please. Just a little bit. Just try.” 

But she’d been unsuccessful. He would drink a little, or rather show enough sense of self-preservation to swallow the water she trickled into his mouth rather than choke on it, but he would not eat. 

Lancelot knew, they all did, that he didn’t have much longer. In three days he’d gone from being able to sit on a horse and walk, to barely having the strength to hold his head up. If they didn’t find the druids soon, there wouldn’t be any point in finding them at all.

“Have you heard of druids still living in these parts?” Gwaine asked him, dragging him from his reverie. 

Lancelot shot his brother-in-arms a look. He’d yet to figure Gwaine out: a man who fought like a lion, drank like a sailor, and laughed with the carelessness of a child. He knew him to be brave, he’d seen him be loyal, and his obvious friendship with Merlin was enough to at least warm him to Lancelot’s affection. But he had a frivolous side that Lancelot could not understand. How could a man who showed so many qualities necessary for a knight, be so throwaway with the honours bestowed on him? How could he show so little respect for authority and nobility? 

Seeing Gwaine’s eyes still on him, he answered his question: “No. I had heard rumours of a druid village in these woods, but that was some time ago.” 

“Well, Arthur put an end to them so the story goes,” Gwaine sighed. “I wouldn’t hold out much hope of finding anything but survivors.” 

Lancelot frowned. “Arthur put an end to them?” 

“Brutally. Killed women and children and took no prisoners. That’s what I was told,” Gwaine said, spearing a piece of chicken with his knife and putting it in his mouth before chewing determinedly. 

“By whom?” 

“A man in a tavern,” he said with his mouth full. 

Lancelot pulled a face. “Figures.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He flicked him a glance, not wanting to start a fight, but not wanting to mince his words either. He smiled. “You seem to have heard a lot of things in taverns.” 

“Best places to find out anything,” Gwaine told him. “Men are always at their most talkative when they’ve a drink in them. And even strangers are warmly welcomed – for a while anyway.” 

“In my experience, information like that is not to be trusted.” 

“Why, because the men who give it aren’t knights?” he said the last word in a prissy tone, and with an audible amount of contempt. 

Lancelot was genuinely surprised. “No,” he insisted. “A man who raises animals, or does an honest day’s work as a blacksmith, or a – a shoemaker can be every bit as honourable as a knight. Why, a mere servant can be the best of us!” he glanced over in Merlin’s direction, and any anger that had been building in both of them dissipated immediately as they remembered their purpose.

Gwaine considered him. “You really believe that of him, don’t you?” he asked gently. 

“Yes,” Lancelot replied firmly. 

“Yeah well, that’s something we can agree on anyway.” 

Lancelot nodded, keeping his eyes on the fire. 

Gwaine drew in a breath and stretched. “And you seem to have a certain amount of – respect for Gwen as well.” 

Lancelot looked up at him quickly to find Gwaine smiling broadly. “Gwen’s a very fine woman,” he said. 

“That she is,” Gwaine agreed. “And her and Arthur seem… tight.” 

“Yes,” Lancelot agreed, trying not to sound despondent. “He’s – a brave man in his position to be so free in his affections towards a mere servant.” 

“But as we both know,” Gwaine said. “Being a servant doesn’t make you less of a person.” 

“No, but it must make it difficult for them both.” 

Gwaine smiled again, but sadly this time. “You like her, don’t you?” he asked it quietly, carefully, with respect. 

Lancelot met his gaze, unsure what to say, knowing whatever answer he came up with would give him away. “She’s with Arthur,” he said simply. 

“And just because he’s a prince, you give up?” Gwaine asked, not stirring, more disappointed. 

“No, not because he’s a prince,” Lancelot insisted, then changed his mind. “Well – maybe partly that,” he admitted. “But mostly because it’s her choice. She chose him.” 

“Mm,” Gwaine shrugged. “People change their mind.” 

“It would be wrong to come between them,” Lancelot said. “And I’d ask you to keep any ideas like that to yourself. No one must know about me and Gwen.” 

“So there was a you and Gwen?” 

“No – nothing ever – we just…” Lancelot flustered a bit. “Things were said,” he eventually came up with. “Nothing happened.” 

“Well, I’m sorry,” Gwaine said genuinely. “It’s hard to see someone you like standing with the person they like and making a world together. I know.” 

Lancelot raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

“There are women who go to taverns as well,” Gwaine said lightly. 

Lancelot smiled, then laughed. 

“We should get some sleep,” Gwaine said, serious again. “If there are any druids left in this forest, I’m guessing it’s not going to be easy to find them.” 

***

The next day, Gwen couldn’t get Merlin to wake up. In the course of the night, he’d fallen into a deep slumber, and nothing she or any of them did would make him open his eyes. As Gwen tried everything, Lancelot and Gwaine glanced at each other, feeling helpless, knowing the urgency of reaching their journey’s end.

“Gwen,” Lancelot went to her, and took her by the shoulders. Her eyes were red. “Let’s move on,” he said. “Perhaps you should ride in the back with him this time. I could drive the horse, and Gwaine could scout ahead.” 

She looked at him gratefully. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “That would be good.” 

So they broke camp, and laid Merlin once again in the cart, Gwen climbing up beside him and making herself as comfortable as she could in the cramped space remaining. She took his cold hand in hers and held it firmly, watching his face, or breaking off to look around her into the woods. 

From that point on, the day did not go well. The summer heat finally broke, and clouds gathered overhead, a light, depressing rain eventually starting to fall. Gwen managed to rig a blanket roughly over the cart as a shelter, but the rain was pernicious, dripping into everything, and lowering their already despondent mood still further. Plus, although Gwaine on horseback could make good progress on the road, scouting ahead and then trotting back with ease, the cart began to have more difficulties. This road was not well used or cared for, and deep ruts and pot holes had formed over time. The rain was now starting to turn its cracked surface to mud, and at one point, the wheel jammed in a particularly deep rut made newly slippery, and it took all three of them to get it out and going again. 

“How far do you think we still have to go?” Lancelot asked her, as they bumped along in the afternoon light, both muddy and wet through. They hadn’t stopped to eat, choosing to grab some bread and cheese on the move instead, and they were exhausted from the efforts of freeing the cart. 

Gwen rose stiffly from her position in the back, and scrambled up so that she could perch beside him, being careful of the cart’s movement as it rocked over stones and bumps. 

“Gaius gave me a map,” she said, pulling it out of her bag and unrolling it, bending over it as much as possible to keep it dry. “He said that Uther had destroyed the druid village that used to be in these woods about two years ago.” 

“Uther did – or Arthur did?” Lancelot asked her.

Gwen looked at him slightly accusingly, but he met her with a blank face, emotions kept inside. She looked away and said in a quiet voice. “I’m told Uther sent Arthur with orders to destroy it. He didn’t have a choice.” 

Lancelot nodded, confirming to himself that Gwaine’s theory of gathering information in taverns was probably better than he would have given it credit for. He didn’t like the thought of Arthur blindly following orders, putting women and children to death simply for being different, for having magic. Part of him wondered suddenly if he would so blindly send Merlin to his death. It made him feel cold suddenly, as if the dream of Camelot and equality wasn’t quite up to the high standards he had set. 

“After it was destroyed,” Gwen went on, looking back at the map decisively. “The survivors scattered. Gaius heard that many of them went to Cendred’s kingdom, and that’s where Arthur and Merlin found a group when they went searching for the Cup of Life. But they didn’t all go there. Gaius thinks some of them remained in this forest, and he’d heard rumours of a small group of druids living in the foothills of Mount Vorlich.” 

“Mm, that is still many miles to the north,” Lancelot said. “Another day’s ride at least.” 

“But Merlin doesn’t have another day!” Gwen insisted, turning a desperate face to him. “And if it’s a day’s ride, then how long is it going to take us to get him there in this thing with the road the way it is? And even then, we’re going to have to get off the road to get to the druids. How are we going to do that?” 

“We’ll get as close as we can,” Lancelot assured her. “And then one of us will ride out find them, bring them back.” 

She shook her head. “If only Gaius had told me sooner,” she said, tears starting to form again in her eyes. “But he was so desperately trying to protect Merlin.” 

Lancelot frowned. “Protect him from what?” he asked. 

Gwen looked a little guilty suddenly, and shot him an awkward look, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes. “Oh - it’s nothing, it’s just…” 

He looked at her curiously. Gwen looked back, and found herself in one of those curious moments, where both people know a secret that they’re pretty sure the other person knows too, but neither is confident enough to say anything plainly. 

“Gaius said that he thought you…” she shrugged. “Y’know – that you knew about Merlin.” 

“About him…?” 

“The – his secret.” 

Then Lancelot smiled. “That he has magic?” 

“Yes,” she sighed a huge breath of relief. “That he has magic.” 

“Yes,” he turned back to the road. “I’ve known that about him for a long time.” 

“How did you find out?” she wondered. “He seems to be so good at hiding it.” 

“Do you remember the griffin,” he said. “The monster that was attacking Camelot when we first met?” 

“Yes, of course,” she said. “You rode out against it and defeated it, then you left.” 

“The reason I left was because I wasn’t the one to defeat it.”

She turned to him, confused. 

“Oh I rode against it alright,” he confirmed. “Arthur’s men had been defeated by the time Merlin and I got there. They were lying injured and bloodied all around. Then the griffin attacked. I took up my lance, and charged, having no hope of victory. But as I rode past Merlin, I heard him saying these strange words over and over again. I didn’t have time to think about it, but as I charged, my lance suddenly began to glow an unnatural light, so bright I almost dropped it in surprise. But then it struck the griffin, and it felt different from the previous time I’d fought the beast. It felt like it hit home, like I had truly injured it. I saw its body tumble away onto the forest floor, and it lay still. Then I saw Merlin. He looked so – happy, so triumphant. But Arthur woke then, and Merlin slipped away back to the castle before I could speak to him. Arthur gave me the credit, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t give Merlin away. But later, I had one last chance to speak to him, and told him I’d seen him use magic, but that I would protect his secret. He seemed fairly terrified, but I guess he would have had not choice other than to trust me. Then I went back to Arthur and told him I was leaving.” 

“Merlin’s magic defeated the griffin?” Gwen muttered, sounding amazed. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin’s magic were not responsible for defeating many of Camelot’s enemies over the years,” Lancelot said. “Did you know it was him that defeated Morgana’s immortal army?” 

“What!” Gwen turned a shocked face to him. 

“I saw him do it,” Lancelot insisted.

Gwen didn’t know what to say. She’d been so focussed on the journey, had made herself focus on the journey so much that she’d pushed the unpalatable fact that her friend had magic to the back of her mind. But she was going to have to face it, and face her own prejudice. “I’m still finding everything a bit hard to believe,” she sighed. “I’ve known him so long, Lancelot, and I had no idea he’d done all these things. He’s been protecting all of us, and risking his life to do it. Magic means death in Camelot. Uther makes sure of that.” 

“What do you think Arthur would do,” he asked quietly. “If he found out the truth?” 

Gwen looked uncertain. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “His father’s hatred of magic is so – overwhelming that it’s dominated Arthur’s life. It would be difficult for him to get past something like that – even when we clearly owe Merlin such a debt.” 

“And yet he’s still scrubbing Arthur’s floors and cleaning his boots,” Lancelot said, sighing. 

“Gaius says that Arthur’s not ready to know,” she said sadly. “He thinks he’d tell his father and that Merlin would be executed.” 

“And do you think that?” Lancelot asked her, glancing over. 

She was silent. She longed to say that she did not believe it, that Arthur was a better man, that he would rise up above his father’s prejudices and stand up for a man who had surely proved himself to be beyond loyal. She had to believe it. If she loved him, she had to believe him a good man at heart. But still she did not answer. 

And the rain continued to fall. 

***

“I’ll ride out in the morning,” Lancelot announced, as they finished their sparse evening meal that Gwen had prepared over the fire. “If the druids are where Gaius thinks they are, then it’ll take me only a few hours to get there on horseback. I’ll bring them back with me.” 

Gwen nodded listlessly, knowing in her heart that it was going to be too late. They’d reached as far as they could journey with the heavy cart, and had stopped in a clearing close to the road. Merlin’s breathing was now so shallow that they’d been anxious even about moving him. But they’d made him as comfortable as they could by the fire, and all they could do now was continue in their quest and hope that somehow, miraculously, he would survive the next few hours, giving them enough time to reach the druids and beg them for help. 

Gwaine had fallen into a depressed silence that seemed so out of character it was actually causing Lancelot concern. In contrast, Gwen seemed to have found an inner strength to deal with the issue, and hadn’t shed another tear since that morning. As they settled down for the night, she’d determined to sleep in Merlin’s bed close beside him. “To keep him warm,” she’d stated, though the others guessed the real reason would be closer to Gwen not wishing Merlin to die alone in the night. She wanted to be near him right until the end. It was all she could do. 

They were a long time falling asleep, none of them wanting to wake in the morning and find him gone. But eventually, one by one, they dropped into an uneasy sleep. 

Deep in the dark watches of the night, when the sky had cleared and crystal constellations glittered brilliantly overhead, Gwen’s eyes shot open, feeling something pass through her. It was something she couldn’t have put into words. Fearing the worst, she sat up and turned to Merlin, but the warlock was still breathing, slowly and almost inaudibly it was true, but he was clearly alive. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks, and turned to see if the fire was still burning. Then she cried out in fear and surprise. 

Instantly, the two knights were on their feet, swords in hand, ready for attack despite being woken from such a deep sleep. 

“What the…?” Gwaine said, unsure what to make of what was in front of him. 

A group of four figures, heavily cloaked and hooded, were standing at the edge of the clearing. Their clothes were tattered, their faces shadowed. They made no move of threat towards them, and seemed to hold no weapons. 

“Who are you?” Lancelot demanded, as him and Gwaine moved between the figures and their friends on the floor. “What do you want?” 

The lead figure stepped forward and drew the hood from his head. He had dusky skin, lighter than Gwen’s, and bright eyes. He bowed his head in greeting. “We have come to offer our help,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” Lancelot demanded. 

“Your friend is sick,” he explained, indicating Merlin. 

“How did you know that?” Gwen asked, getting to her feet, and standing protectively in front of Merlin. 

“We can feel it,” the man explained. “He is a creature of magic, as we are creatures of magic. We felt his distress.”

Gwaine glanced at Lancelot in shock at the words, but the other knight remained impassive. 

“Are you… druids?” Gwen asked hopefully, coming forward. 

“We are,” he acknowledged. 

“And you will help him?” 

“If we can,” he nodded.

“Then please,” she indicated they should come forwards. “We have travelled many miles to find you.” 

The man bowed his head again to Lancelot and Gwaine, who both put up their weapons and edged backwards to let him past. The man came forward alone between them, and walked straight towards Merlin, kneeling beside him as Gwen stood at his side, wringing her hands with concern.

The man placed a hand carefully on Merlin’s forehead and shut his eyes, seemingly sensing for something. He opened his eyes again quickly. “He is very weak,” he said quietly to Gwen. “We must work fast.” He turned and indicated to the others that they should come forward. “Would you give us space?” he asked her. “I promise you we will not harm him.” 

“Yes, of – of course,” she agreed, backing up and moving away to stand with the two knights. The druids moved around Merlin until one was positioned at each of the four points of the compass, then they sat. 

“We call upon the elemental spirits,” their leader said quietly. “The powers of east south, west and north. Be with us and guide us.” Then they all shut their eyes, and concentrated. 

There was about two minutes of silence before anyone spoke, then Gwaine whispered to the others. “What do you think they’re doing?” 

Lancelot shook his head silently. 

“I’ve no idea,” Gwen replied. “I know nothing of magic.” 

“I’m seen magic,” Gwaine admitted quietly. The other two looked at him surprised. “I’ve seen many things,” he explained. 

“In taverns?” Lancelot questioned scathingly.

“I don’t spend my entire life in taverns,” he protested. 

Gwen sighed, tired of their bickering. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” she asked Gwaine. 

“Nothing like this,” he said. “Whatever they’re doing, it’s unknown to me.” 

“Let’s just hope it works,” Lancelot said.

They stayed like that, the druids sitting with their eyes closed in concentration, the knights and Gwen standing hopefully by, waiting for their answer, for maybe 15 minutes, while around them the creatures of the night carried on their secret business, far from the eyes of men. 

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, all four of the druids drew in a sudden breath and opened their eyes wide. Then they looked at each other with an unreadable expression on their faces. 

Gwen couldn’t stop herself. She ran forward. “What it is?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” 

The lead druid got to his feet. He turned swiftly, and bowed to the north, before turning back and stepping away from the circle. The others got up more slowly. 

He took Gwen’s hands gently. “The magical elements working against your friend are very powerful,” he explained. “He is a long way from here, deep within terrible dreams that we can not bring him back from.” 

“But,” her eyes began to water again, and the man could feel her hands trembling. “But you must!” she exclaimed. “You are the only ones who can help him. He can’t die!” 

“No,” the man agreed. “He cannot. Your friend is of the greatest importance, more than you know. But we are not the ones who can heal him of this sickness. We are not powerful enough.” 

“Then who can?” she demanded. “Who is powerful enough? Please? We’ll do anything.” 

He smiled, appreciating her loyalty. “There is only one being who has the power to help your friend,” he said. “We have given him as much strength as we are able, and poured as much healing into him as we could. This will give him time, but nothing more. To heal him, you must ask for help from the great dragon.”

Gwen’s face dissolved into despair. “But the great dragon is dead,” she insisted. “Arthur killed it when it attacked Camelot.” 

The man smiled at her gently. “Even a man such as the great Prince Arthur does not have the power to kill a dragon,” he assured her. “Only a dragon lord would be able to do that. The great dragon is the last of his kind, but he still lives by the clemency of the last dragon lord. Together they are a powerful force for magic and for good in this world.” 

Gwen was even more confused. “But he was killed,” she insisted. “And even if by some miracle he is alive, and what you say is true, why would he help us when he tried to destroy us? And where would we even hope to find him?” 

“Where the dragon resides now, few can say,” the man nodded. “He lives in secrecy and shadows, fearful of man. But he will help you I can promise you that. He would not deny the prophecy.” 

“What prophecy?” 

The man looked confused by her ignorance. “The prophecy of the uniting of the kingdoms and the creation of Albion.” 

“What does Merlin have to do with that?” 

He smiled gently. “Everything,” he insisted. “He has been spoken of in legends before time began. That it why the great dragon will assist you, and that is why you must find him.” He let go of her hands and reached to his belt, untying a small pouch and holding it up, opening it and taking out a small amber rock about the size of his fist. “This is a dragon stone,” he said. “Maybe the last one in existence. My people have kept it safe for hundreds of years. Used correctly, it can summon a dragon. What you do then is up to you.” He replaced the stone in the bag and handed it to her.

She took it in awe. “How do I use it?” she asked. 

“Travel 5 miles north of here until you come to a hill at the edge of the forest. Climb this hill, and there is an open plateau on the top. Place your friend on the ground with the stone over his heart, and the dragon will come. He will not be able to resist the call of the stone.” 

Gwen clutched the bag, then looked up to the man with tearful eyes. “We can never repay you for your kindness,” she said. 

He smiled and put his hands over hers again. “Do not fail in this quest,” he said earnestly. “For your friend to live, you must be strong and stand beside him, protect him at all costs. For the future of Albion.” 

She nodded firmly. 

“We will leave you now,” he said, turning to his companions who were gathering behind him. “Go at first light and you should reach the summit of the hill by mid-morning. The dragon will come swiftly. Good luck.” 

The group turned to go, the knights both calling their thanks as they passed by, then they disappeared back into the forest, and were soon out of sight and hearing. 

Gwen had already turned back to Merlin, still clutching the dragon stone in her hand. She crouched down beside him. He did seem to be breathing easier, and a slight colour had returned to his cheeks, but still he did not stir. 

“We must get him back on the cart,” she called to the others. “And be prepared to leave and soon as it is light.” 

***

“So I’m guessing Merlin has magic,” Gwaine said as they rode along, Gwen once again driving the cart, with Lancelot on one side and Gwaine on the other. 

Gwen glanced at Lancelot, then back over at Gwaine who was watching them both closely. “I only mention it because it came up in conversation back there and no one seemed to notice.” 

“I’m sorry,” Gwen said to him. “No one knew. It’s been a well-kept secret.” 

“You knew,” he pointed out. 

“I only knew because Gaius told me two days ago,” she protested. “I had no idea before that, and I’ve been friends with Merlin a lot longer than you have, believe me.” 

“And you knew as well, didn’t you?” he called across to Lancelot. The other knight said nothing. “Oh come on,” he said. “That druid said Merlin was a creature of magic, and you looked like someone had just told you there was soup for lunch. It certainly wasn’t news to you.” 

“I found out by accident some time ago,” Lancelot confessed.

“We didn’t want to say anything because we thought we might be able to keep the secret,” Gwen said. “Magic is outlawed in Camelot. If Uther were to find out the truth about Merlin, he’d burn him at the stake as a sorcerer.” 

“And you think I’m going tell Uther!” Gwaine protested, genuinely hurt. 

“No, of course not!” she exclaimed. “But the more people that know, the more likely it is that the secret might come out. This isn’t a little thing, Gwaine. Merlin’s been using his magic to protect Arthur, and if anyone finds out it will change everything. They’d never be able to go back to the way they were before.” 

“Nah, it’s okay,” he interrupted her. “I’m mostly annoyed he didn’t tell me himself.” 

“He didn’t tell anyone,” she assured him again. “He’s been keeping this secret his whole life. Gaius told me he was born with magic. He must have been living in fear of people finding out ever since he was a child.” 

Gwaine grimaced, trying to imagine growing up with something like that constantly hanging over your head. 

“So this dragon,” Lancelot said, changing the subject. “Arthur fought it?” 

Gwen spared Gwaine one more glance of concern then turned to her other friend. “Yes. It was being held captive by Uther underneath the palace for years, but it escaped and took its revenge on the kingdom, killing dozens of people. Arthur rode out to find the last dragon lord, the only person who could control a dragon. But he failed. The dragon lord died on the journey back, killed by Cenred’s men. So Arthur rode out to face the dragon himself with just a small group of knights. We were told he had struck a mortal blow on the dragon, and that it had flown away to die.” 

“But no one saw its body?” 

“No,” she confessed. “We didn’t question it though. The dragon’s never been seen again.” 

“Wait wait wait wait,” Gwaine said. “That druid guy said the dragon lived by the clemency of the last dragon lord, whatever the hell that means. But that implies there’s a dragon lord still alive.” 

“Not according to Arthur. The man was killed. I don’t know who the druids were talking about.” 

“But they also say the dragon isn’t dead,” Lancelot pointed out. “When you all believed it was killed by Arthur.” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe any more,” she said. “I’ve been told so many incredible things in the past few weeks my head’s spinning. First Morgana turns out to be a sorceress, then she’s Uther’s daughter, then she’s trying to bring down the kingdom, and now Merlin has magic and is this great person prophesied to help Arthur build a better kingdom. To be honest, I’d probably believe you if you said I could grow wings and fly like a fairy right now.” 

“There are fairies you know,” Gwaine dropped in.

The other two looked at him. 

“They’re called the Sidhe,” he said. “And they’re nasty. You don’t want to bump into one of those at the bottom of your garden.” 

“Something else you’ve seen in a tavern?” Lancelot asked caustically. 

“No,” he shot back angrily. “Not something I saw in a tavern.”

Gwen finally lost her temper. “Can you two please stop it! We’ve got enough to worry about on this journey without you arguing! Let’s just get to where we need to be and hope that the dragon can answer all our questions without killing us first.”

***

They emerged out of the forest in the bright morning light, the sun dazzling their eyes. They breathed in the fresher air of the open plain. The scrubby trees and bushes at the forest’s edge thinned out quickly into green grass that stretched before them, rising up gently.

Glad to be out from under the trees, they paused briefly to take in the view and feel the sun on their faces, before urging the horses on, the mood of the animals also seeming to lift. They moved faster at first, but then as the gradient increased, the horses slowed, particularly the one pulling the cart. Eventually, at a level section before the hill became steeper, they abandoned the cart, unhitching the horse and lifting Merlin from the back. Lancelot held him in front of him on his horse, hoping he could achieve the summit with the extra weight and keep his seat as well. 

Gwen climbed onto the back of the third horse, and together they pushed on, feeling the power of the horses’ legs as they pulled themselves up the hill. They were all relieved to make the summit, and looked around as a colder wind started to whip their hair across their faces. 

“There,” Gwen said, pointing. “Let’s place him there.” She was indicating a flat area of grassland close to where they were standing, and they walked the horses over, Gwaine and Gwen jumping down and helping to lift Merlin down from in front of Lancelot, laying him gently on the ground. Then the knight jumped down as well. 

“Now what?” Gwaine asked, looking around. 

“Now I need to use this,” Gwen told them, taking out the pouch and holding it up. She emptied out the stone into her hand and held it for a few seconds, turning it over and watching it glitter in the sunlight. The stone appeared almost to have its own inner light, and it seemed to Gwen that she could feel its power, though maybe it was just her imagination. 

She knelt down, holding the stone in both hands and looked up at the others briefly, almost seeking their permission to do what she needed to do. They just watched her silently, unsure what was happening. 

Concentrating back on the stone, she lowered it slowly, and placed it on her friend’s chest over his heart. The reaction was instant, and she fell back in shock as Merlin drew in a shuddering breath and rose up slightly off the ground, his back arching as he reacted to contact with the dragon stone.

“What’s happening?” Lancelot said, taking a step forward in concern.

“I don’t know,” Gwen cried, hesitating as she wondered whether to take the stone back. But then as quickly as it had happened, the reaction ended, and Merlin settled back, breathing as before, the stone sitting harmlessly on his chest as though merely a lump of rock. 

The others looked on, wide-eyed as Gwen struggled to her feet. 

“Maybe that means it’s working,” Gwaine suggested. 

Gwen shook her head, unsure. 

Lancelot glanced around the sky. “How big is this dragon?” 

“Oh,” she said, following his gaze. “About dragon sized.” 

Both knights cast her a scathing look. “That could mean anything,” Gwaine pointed out. 

“Well I’m sorry, last time I saw it I was too busy running for my life to get out my measuring tape!” she snapped. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter how big it is. It’s a dragon. One breath would finish us all if it wanted. We just have to hope that whatever this stone is, it offers us some sort of protection.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve got my own sort of protection,” Gwaine said, drawing his sword as he looked around. 

Gwen looked at him. “Gwaine!” she hissed. “Put that away!”

“Why?” he wondered. “If I’m going to be burned to death by a dragon on a hillside far from home, I’m damn well going to be armed!” 

“She’s right,” Lancelot told him. “Swords aren’t going to be much use against a dragon Gwaine. Better to seem less of a threat to it by not holding swords. We need its help after all, we’re not here to fight it.” 

“Maybe you’re not,” he shrugged. 

“Gwaine please,” Gwen begged. 

He saw her face. “Oh, alright,” he sighed, sheathing his sword with a scraping clang of metal. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if the beast comes in fighting.” 

“Then we must stop it,” Gwen insisted. “We’re here for Merlin, and that’s all that matters now.” 

Gwaine nodded his compliance, however reluctant, and the three of them went back to scanning the skies. 

Gwen glanced back down at Merlin to see how he was doing, and her eyes were drawn to the dragon stone on his chest. If it were not her imagination, the stone seemed to be pulsating very gently, though it was hard to see in such strong sunlight. In out, in out, it was definitely getting ever so slightly brighter and then ever so slightly darker again, and the most disconcerting thing of all was that it appeared to be doing it in time to Merlin’s gentle breathing. In out. In out. 

Startled, she almost blurted her thoughts out to the two knights, but something inside her made her stay silent. This didn’t look accidental, it looked magical, as if somehow Merlin and the stone were connected, working together, silently calling to the dragon out across the plain and beyond. 

Then she heard it. It was a gentle sound at first, like waves breaking on a beach: a rhythmic, beating sound that came and went, growing ever stronger. And that too seemed to be in time with the pulsing of the stone, and the soft breathing of her friend. In out, in out. 

“What’s that?” she heard Lancelot ask, though it was unlikely he wanted or indeed even needed an answer. As the sound came closer, it was most definitely and undoubtedly wing beats they were hearing, great big slow wing beats that vibrated through the heat: in out in out, like a heartbeat. 

“There!” Gwaine shouted suddenly, pointing to the south, and there it came. The great dragon, skimming through the sky as easily as a fish might swim up a river, his body weaving its way past obstacles in the landscape, heading straight for them.

It came fast, and was upon them almost before they’d had time to take in what it was. And it landed in a flurry of wings and scales and tail. They felt the ground shake as its massive form hit home. Then it folded its wings, and regarded them. 

Gwen could feel herself shaking in terror. The beast was huge. Beside her, she sensed the two knights fighting the instinct to draw their swords and attack, but to their credit, they both stayed their hand.

She tried to steady her breathing, and took an awkward step forward, almost losing her nerve as the dragon’s eyes fell upon her and held her in its gaze. All the words that she’d been practicing on their journey, all the things that she would say to this great beast to persuade it to help, slipped from her mind, melting away like snow on a spring morning, totally overwhelmed by the voice in her head telling her to run, get the hell out of there. But she overcame it, and came to a stop a few metres from the dragon’s front feet. 

“Please,” she said to it haltingly. “We need your help.” 

The dragon appeared to snort in amusement at that, but she supposed it must be her imagination.

“Indeed,” it said, its voice deep and penetrating. 

She raised her eyebrows in amazement, just managing to stop herself from blurting out the obvious: ‘You can talk!’ 

“And what, mistress Guinevere, would you like me to do?” 

She couldn’t stop herself this time. “You know my name!” she cried, startled more than she could say.

“I know more than your name, my lady. I know everything about you, and your two companions, and the part that all three of you will play in the legend that is unfolding around you. And so I ask again, what exactly is it that you would like me to do?” 

She gulped, but felt slightly bolstered by the dragon’s words, as if the speaking of her name gave her more power and confidence in what she was doing. As though she had a right to be there. 

She took another step forward and indicated Merlin, lying on the grass nearby, pale as a sunbeam. “Our friend is sick with a magical illness that we have no knowledge or power to cure,” she said. “We took him to the druids, but they told us you were the only one who could help him. Please, if there’s anything you can do.” 

The dragon moved his gaze from her to Merlin’s still form, and Gwen was sure that a shadow of concern passed across its face. Certainly its voice when it spoke again was gentler. “The young warlock is not sick,” it stated. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean he is not sick,” the dragon repeated matter of factly. “He is lost and full of sorrow, and unable to change that which is inevitable.” 

“What do mean by lost?” 

“I mean my lady Guinevere, that his body may be here, but his mind is not. It is lost in a world we can not see, a world you were never meant to see. He needs to find his way back, and although he has the power to do this himself, he needs help to be reminded of the path, or he will remain lost forever.” 

“Can you help him? Can you help to bring him back?” 

He considered her again. “Perhaps,” he said. “But first of all, tell me why you wish to help him?” 

“I don’t understand.” 

The dragon laughed then, a disconcerting sound, worse somehow than its voice and its claws and its teeth put together. “Oh I think you do,” he said. “Magic is outlawed in your land, and people fear it. You yourself have had unfavourable dealings with magic: with the witch Morgana, with the death of your father. You, like Uther, must hate sorcerers and everything they do, and yet you have undertaken this quest to save Merlin knowing what he is. I want to know why.” 

Gwen glanced at the others, uncertain, but they were just looking on nervously, and offered her little comfort. Then she looked back. “Because he’s my friend,” she stated quietly. 

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that,” the dragon said, amusement still dripping from his voice. 

She swallowed nervously, knowing on some level that the dragon was right. She did hate sorcery, feared it. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t intended, it had just grown over time until this heavy feeling settled on her heart when the subject was brought up, or when magic was blamed for any of the ills that befell Camelot. 

She’d felt so justified by what had happened to her, that she’d never even questioned her own feelings, or the hatred she felt, even though it was so unlike her. She’d pushed those feelings aside when Gaius had told her the truth about Merlin, but when it came down to it, when she was honest with herself, they hadn’t changed. 

She raised her eyes to the dragon once more, and had the disconcerting feeling that it could see into her very soul. There was certainly no point in lying. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do hate magic, and I have never trusted sorcerers. I have been accused of using magic myself, and I have seen the fear it puts in people’s hearts. But…” she looked at Merlin again. “I have never known anyone in my entire life like Merlin. He is the most generous, the most selfless soul in all of Camelot. It’s true I didn’t know he was a sorcerer, so maybe you could say that our entire friendship was built on a lie.” She shook her head. “But I don’t care. I do not believe that he is evil, and I would do anything to protect him.”

The dragon’s lips curled into the semblance of a smile as it looked down on her. “Very well,” it said. “But I can not do this alone.” 

“What can we do?” 

“My magic is strong, but as I said, the warlock is not sick, he is lost, and I fear he would not trust me enough to lead him again to the light. Only one he trusted implicitly, only someone with whom he shared a strong bond of friendship, can bring him back. It would need one of the three of you to agree to enter the limbo state that Merlin now exists in, though this may mean sharing his nightmares.” 

“Then let me!” Gwen insisted. 

“No!” Lancelot spoke for the first time, and sprang forwards. “Gwen it’s too dangerous. You can’t trust it!” 

“We don’t have a choice, Lancelot,” she insisted, turning to him. 

“Then I’ll go,” and the knight looked up at the dragon, his face open. “Please. I’ll do it.” 

“I’ll do it!” Gwaine piped up from behind. “I’ll drag his skinny butt back faster than you can say Prince Arthur.” 

The dragon looked amused again. “So many offers,” he said. “And so little time,” he pointed out. “But this time, I feel the lady may be the best choice. This is a delicate matter after all, and your friend may not come willingly.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused. 

“You don’t have much time,” the dragon said again, ignoring her question. 

She frowned, but turned back to the two knights. “I need to do this,” she insisted. “I need to prove to myself that I can do this. And I can bring him back. I’m not scared.” 

Lancelot looked into her eyes, captivated by her bravery and selflessness, losing himself there briefly and forgetting, oh how sweetly, that this incredible creature could never be his. Then the moment passed, and he simply stepped backwards, telling her silently to go ahead, that he trusted her. 

She smiled at him, then turned to the dragon. “What must I do?” 

“Move closer to the warlock,” he commanded. “And you knights of Camelot, move back.” 

They all did as they were told, Gwen standing on Merlin’s left side, looking up at the dragon expectantly. 

It said: “If he does not wake by the time the sun sets, then he will never wake, and Camelot is doomed.” 

She nodded. “I understand.” 

“No you can not,” the dragon said sadly. “But you will learn.” 

Then he drew in a great breath, and breathed out onto Gwen and Merlin together. Gwen gasped, feeling the power surge all around her, feeling light-headed suddenly, and heavy all at the same time, like her limbs belonged to someone else and her head was separate from her body. The feeling intensified, and she felt herself falling, saw the world fade out, then slip away, as though someone had tipped it, and all the mountains and fields and trees had simply slid off the ground that held them fast, disappearing into blackness. 

She blinked. 

Everything was black. 

Everywhere she looked, there was only blackness. 

She blinked again. 

“Hello?” 

Nothing. Only the sound of her own voice fading away. 

“Hello!” she shouted again, feeling terror strike her in the darkness. 

There was nothing. She was alone. 

***

“Guinevere!” Lancelot rushed forward as she fell, failing to catch her before she hit the ground. He skidded down beside her, reaching out a hand to scrape her hair back gently from her face. Her eyes were closed. 

“What have you done to her!” he demanded, staring up at the dragon with anger on his face. 

“Only what she asked,” the dragon answered calmly. “She is now in a position to help – if Merlin is willing to hear her.” 

“And if he isn’t?” Gwaine asked, coming up as well. 

The dragon moved in the semblance of a shrug. “Then there is a chance that she will remain trapped with him in his nightmare for all time. This is the cost of friendship.” 

“Deceiver!” Lancelot rose swiftly to his feet, drawing his sword. “You didn’t say any of that to her before!” 

“Did I not,” the dragon said malevolently. “And would it have affected her decision? Or simply your desire for her not to go?” 

“Bring her back!” he demanded, gesturing his sword with purpose. 

“What is done can not be undone,” the dragon insisted. “The lady Guinevere is set upon a course of her own choosing. What the result will be, even I can not say.” 

Lancelot bristled in front of the dragon for a few moments longer, then seemed to realise how ridiculous he looked, and collapsed down beside Gwen again, wrapping his hand around hers. 

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Now I must leave you,” he said. 

“Leave us?” Gwaine wondered. 

“My existence here is known to very few,” the dragon explained. “I must leave before I am seen.” 

As he made to stretch his wings, Gwaine called to him once more. “Wait!” he said. “You told us that you knew about us, about what we did? About our part in the story of Camelot?” 

“Indeed sir knight,” the dragon commented, folding his wings down again temporarily, and turning to address Gwaine. “And your deeds will be truly remembered by all peoples in rhyme and song until the end of days.” 

Gwaine seemed to glow a little at that, folding his arms, a huge smile settling on his handsome face. Then the dragon looked down at Lancelot, still cradling Guinevere. 

“You will also be remembered,” he said shortly. “But for different reasons.” 

And with that, as Lancelot looked up in shock, and Gwaine shielded his face to protect his eyes from the dust, the great dragon flexed its powerful muscles, unfurled its bat-like wings, and thrust away into the blue sky, beating strongly until it was soon nothing but a speck on the horizon. 

Gwaine looked at Lancelot sideways, unsure what to say. 

“What do you think he meant by that?” he wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Lancelot said, though in truth his mind was focussed on one thing only, and she was before him lying prone on the grass in the summer sunshine. 

***

She felt odd, there was no other way to describe it. The darkness all around made her disorientated, bereft of senses to tell her anything of her surroundings. She was also disconcertingly aware that although she was there, she wasn’t actually there: her body was not actually a body, but her own mind’s projection. But she quickly wiped that thought away, deciding it was just too odd. 

Instead she decided to focus on her purpose. Somehow, Gwen hoped that wherever she was, Merlin was there too. It stood to reason after all. Where else would the dragon have sent her but somewhere she could communicate with her friend, talk him round, bring him back. Why then was she in a black hole with no one but herself for company, her voice the only sound to be heard? Oh well then. Might as well make it heard.

“Merlin!!” 

Bu no sooner had she started shouting, then she silenced herself. She’d heard something. Carefully, she began to turn her head, trying to catch the sound again. It was like – like a voice, like someone calling. She was concentrating on it so much that she didn’t even notice the darkness begin to fade, dissolving into a sort of grey fog that began to swirl around her feet then rise inexorably upwards. 

She finally saw it, and stumbled backwards, before realising that the ground beneath her feet had changed as well. It had been solid, for all that she hadn’t been able to actually see it. Now it was spongy somehow, springy, and she saw grass, smelt it suddenly, her senses bombarded with new sensations as the world sprung into being around her in a rush. 

She was outside, but the mist meant that she could see hardly anything. The ground was definitely grassy and wet, soaking the bottom of her skirt quickly. All around her she could hear sounds as well, cries of men, clashing of metal on metal, the call of frightened horses. 

Gasping, she turned quickly, trying to get her bearings. But it was impossible. The fog was just too thick and unyielding. 

Suddenly behind her, there was a great cry, and she whipped round, just in time to see a man in armour with a cold, bloodied face fixed into a snarl, charging her full tilt, a spear aimed straight at her breast. 

She started, crying out in shock, and shut her eyes on instinct as the man closed the distance between them, and the fatal blow seemed assured. 

Then. 

Nothing. 

There was no pain, no impact. 

She opened her eyes quickly, and was amazed to see that she hadn’t been injured. The man must have stopped before he reached her; changed his mind perhaps. But then her eyes tracked down to the floor, and it wasn’t grass anymore. Flagstones. Grey flagstones. In fact, she was fairly certain that she recognised those…

She looked up. She was in the great hall. 

Gwen’s hands flew to her mouth as she caught sight of Leon and King Uther close in conversation by the throne. Then her brow furrowed in confusion. What was Uther doing out of bed? How had he recovered so quickly? 

She was amazed they hadn’t seen her either, though grateful for that as well, given that such a sudden appearance would have roused suspicions of magic from a man like Uther. But it was as if she wasn’t in the room. She was used to being invisible (she was a servant after all) but it was strange that neither of the men even vaguely glanced in her direction. 

The door suddenly was thrown wide, and there was Arthur. Gwen’s spirits rose instantly at the sight of the man she loved. But there was something wrong. He was angry, his face was livid, and Gwen frowned as she tried to understand what was happening. 

“Arthur, where have you been? I’ve had search parties out looking for you” Uther said to him, looking relieved. “Arthur?” 

“I know what you did to my mother.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“Leave us, no one is to enter. What are you talking about?” 

“Gwen, I said what are you doing here?” 

The use of her name drew her attention finally, and she turned to see Merlin standing beside her. He was looking just the same as always did, the same clothes, the same hair, the same face. Though, it was a face that was marred by an expression of annoyance.

“Merlin!” she exclaimed, and ignoring his expression, rushed forwards to give him a hug, which he allowed briefly, before pushing her back. 

“Why are you here?” he asked again, looking at her intensely. 

“I – I came to help,” she said, hurt by his reaction, or rather his lack of reaction. She’d expected relief, happiness, something. Not this. 

“I don’t need your help,” he said plainly, then he stepped back slightly and seemed to be looking around up at the ceiling of the hall. “I told you I didn’t need her help!” he shouted, angry now as he looked around at nothing. 

Gwen followed his gaze, confused and slightly unnerved. “Who are you talking to?” she wondered quietly. 

“Hm?” he looked back at her. “Oh, the dragon.” Merlin shrugged. “He’s gone now anyway.” 

“The dragon? You can talk to the dragon?” 

He nodded quickly. “I was talking to him as soon as he came close enough.”

“How?” 

He fixed her with a look, and ignored the question. “How did you get him to come?” 

She blushed slightly under his scrutiny, still unsure of herself. “We went to the druids. They gave me something called a dragon stone and they said it would call the dragon if I placed it on your chest. And it did,” she smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. “He came to help you, Merlin. He sent me here to help you. I need to take you back with me.” 

“Gwen,” his face softened, and he took a step towards her, reaching down to catch both her hands in his, holding them up affectionately. “I told you, I don’t need your help. And in any case, I don’t want to go back.” 

“But…” Gwen started to protest, then broke off as a huge roar reverberated off the walls behind her, and she turned quickly, to see Arthur lunging at his father with a sword, Uther parrying with a skill learned from 20 years of such battles. 

Gwen gasped, genuinely shocked by what she was seeing. In her excitement at finding Merlin, she’d forgotten all about being in the great hall with Uther and Arthur. Now here they were knocking into each other. 

She shrank back. “Shouldn’t we try and stop them?” she hissed to Merlin, as he stood beside her, an impassionate expression on his face. 

His dark eyes watched the two royals thrust, dodge and block. “There’s no point,” he said quietly. “The outcome is as certain as the morning.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this moment has already happened,” he explained. “This is the day Arthur found out he was born of magic; that it was Uther’s fault.”

“What?” she turned to him, shocked. “Arthur was born of magic?” 

He nodded determinedly. “He was pretty angry about it. But anyway, this was all – “ he waved his hand vaguely: “- two years ago now.” He was watching the scene play out before them carefully, as the two men battled up and down the great hall. 

“So, this the past, and not the future?” Gwen wondered. 

That drew Merlin’s attention. “Why did you think it was the future?” 

“Oh, it’s just…” 

The door bust open and in ran Merlin, a younger Merlin, who shouted at Arthur to stop as he threatened his father with certain death at the point of his sword. 

“You stopped him!” Gwen said, aghast. “You stopped Arthur from killing Uther.” 

Merlin shrugged. “One of many things I may live long enough to regret,” he said. “Anyway, I’ve seen enough.” 

He walked away towards the wall, and Gwen, with one final look at the tableaux of Merlin, Arthur and Uther, hurried after him. He reached the wall, and put his hand out to a door handle (for a door she was fairly certain had never been there) and pulled it firmly open, stepping through into bright sunshine, Gwen crowding his heels. 

“But that’s just it,” she was saying to him. “You won’t live long enough to regret it, Merlin, not if you stay here. The dragon said you’ve only got – “ she broke off in awe at the sight of the sea before her. It was a blazing hot day, and the waves were breaking gently on the stony shore, the sunlight reflecting dazzlingly into their faces. 

Merlin was standing with his eyes shut now, seemingly basking in the sunshine. Trying not to be distracted, she walked determinedly up to him. 

“The dragon said you had to wake before sunset,” she said. “Or Albion would fall.” 

Merlin let out a soft snort that might have been laughter. “He’s always saying stuff like that,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about it Gwen.” 

“But he’s right,” she insisted. “Since Arthur brought you back from the Crystal Cave, you’ve been getting weaker and weaker every day. Now we can’t even get you to wake up. You’re dying Merlin. You have to come back with me.” 

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and then calmly asked: “How do you know about the Crystal Cave?” 

Again she became slightly flustered. “I – um – I heard it called that, that’s where you were, wasn’t it, it’s where Alvarr put you?” 

He didn’t answer again, still standing with his eyes shut in the sun’s rays. 

“Merlin I know that you can hear me.” 

“Of course I can hear you,” he sighed. “I’m ignoring you. I’m not deaf.” 

She raised her eyebrows at that one, and let out a small gasp of incredulity at his language and his tone. This wasn’t the Merlin she knew. 

She glanced along the beach, then narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of something. “What’s that?” 

He sighed, and opened his eyes finally, his gaze following hers. “Arthur about to lay down his life to save me,” he said, seeing himself and Arthur sitting at a low table, two goblets laid out before them, glinting hazily in the sunshine. “Funny how destiny works out.” And he turned away. 

“Arthur laid down his life for you?” 

“It was his own fault,” Merlin shrugged, uninterested. “He killed the unicorn after all.” 

“But he laid down his life for you,” she turned to him, reaching for his arm. “It’s for Arthur you have to come back, in for nothing else. You mean everything to him. He’d never be the same without you.” 

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he hid it quickly “He’ll learn to live without me.”

“No,” Gwen insisted. “This – whatever it is you’re doing, you’ve got to stop it and wake up. We all need you.” 

At that he became angry, with a suddenness that was like a wave breaking on a rock. “I’m sick of being needed!” he exclaimed. “I’m sick of having the destiny of the kingdom on my head, Gwen.”

“And this is better?” she demanded, determined not to be put off. “You’re just watching life here, you’re not taking part. These are just images. It’s not real.” 

“I have things to do here,” he corrected her bitterly. “I can’t come back.” 

“Things like what?” she asked. “Things that are more important than us? Than the kingdom? Than Arthur?” 

At the mention of Arthur, emotion filled his face again, and this time he couldn’t hide it at easily. He stepped towards her, grasping her arms. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Neither of them seemed to notice that a rain had begun to fall, slowly drenching them, making innumerable ripples on the sea beside them, a sea that became a lake. 

“Then tell me!” she demanded. “Explain to me what’s happening, and I’ll try to help you.” 

“You can’t,” he insisted. “I have to find a way to deal with this myself.” He waved his hand vaguely, but then he stopped when he saw where they were.

Gwen also suddenly realised that the scenery had changed so dramatically. Trees around them dripped, their sad leaves fluttering and twirling in the onslaught of rain. Merlin still had hold of her arm and suddenly she was aware that he was trembling. 

Then she saw them, two figures by the lake, one clearly Merlin holding a young women wearing what Gwen thought looked suspiciously like one of Morgana’s dresses. He was leaning over her tenderly. She watched for a few seconds, seeing him lift the women to his chest, hugging her, sobs of anguish rolling towards them across the muddy landscape. 

“Who is she?” Gwen wondered, her heart melting at the sight, but also suddenly painfully aware that she was intruding on an extremely private moment in his life. So private he’d shared it with none of them. 

She looked up into his face, but he turned away sharply, and the scene vanished. Gwen heard a scream, and whipped round as fog surrounded her once more. She could smell blood, and hear swords clashing on swords. Then a man charged at her out of the darkness, spear aimed at her chest, and she screamed…

But again the blow never came, and she found herself back in darkness. Alone. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she collapsed onto the hard ground, and silently began to weep. 

***

“Any change at all?”

Lanceolot looked up at the voice and spotted Gwaine just cresting the hill. The knight had gone on a quest for firewood and food, since leaving the cart and the forest behind meant they had neither. He’d also brought blankets from the cart and some larger pieces of wood with the intention of constructing a makeshift shelter over their friends lying exposed in the strong afternoon sunshine. 

“No,” Lancelot shook his head. Part of him had been hoping that it would all be over by the time he returned, that the pair would have been awake and chatting to him merrily, much to Gwaine’s surprise. But it was not to be. “Did you get what you were looking for?” he asked, more for the sake of conversation than anything else.

“I got some lunch if that’s what you’re asking,” Gwaine said, launching himself down from his horse, and starting to unhitch the burdens he’d been carrying behind him. 

“I don’t think I could eat,” Lancelot protested, gazing at Guinevere once more. 

“Ah come on,” Gwaine said. “You’ve got to keep your strength up. Who knows what beasts and monsters may start to close in on us once darkness falls.” 

‘Once darkness falls this will all be over,’ Lancelot thought to himself. ‘For good or for ill, and if for ill, I shall not care which beasts approach me. For she will be gone.’ But all he said was: “I’m really not hungry.” 

Gwaine sighed loudly. “Are you telling me I hauled my tired backside all the way down that hill and back just so that I could cook for one?” he turned to look at Lancelot accusingly, but saw him tenderly leaning over Gwen, her hand in his, a lost expression on his face, and he didn’t say any more. Instead, he pulled the bundle of wood he’d collected off the horse, and started to untie its bindings, before arranging the sticks into a fire. 

The uncomfortable silence continued as he lit the fire, then moved back to his horse to collect the pieces for the shelter he’d been planning to build. He took them to Lancelot and dumped them on the ground beside him. 

“There,” he said. “That should help keep the sun off them. 

Lancelot glanced up at him. “”Thank you,” he said, and let go of Gwen’s hand and reached for the first piece of wood. 

***

Gwen didn’t know how long she cried. Time had sort of slipped away. Not that it mattered. Here, nothing really mattered. Part of her could even understand Merlin’s desire to stay. Maybe if she stayed, she would never age. She wondered what that would be like: being this way forever, watching snippets of time playing out harmlessly around her while she remained frozen, nothing touching her.

Then she shook her head. She couldn’t think that way. Drying off her clammy cheeks on her skirt, she forced herself to her feet, determination filling her once again. The darkness was still around her, but she was starting to attune to it now, hearing little whispers and voices, feeling constantly like there were things going on all around her if she could just wake up her senses enough to see them. 

She began to walk, fearing initially that the darkness was a trap, and that she’d hit solid wall, or worse, walk into nothing and fall, endlessly. But the terror passed quickly as nothing bad befell her, and her confidence grew as she walked onwards. 

Then the darkness was fading, washing away in front of her eyes to reveal what looked like a dark corridor with doors leading off it in all directions. The doors all looked exactly the same: smart, dark wood with a black metal handle, none of them numbered, named or otherwise individualised. 

Okay. This was new. 

Still, not to be deterred, she walked up to the first door and tried the handle. It was locked, or at least she couldn’t open it. Gwen sighed, frustrated, then tried a second door, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, until her hand started to hurt from the repeated effort of grasping uncompromising metal. 

Growing angry, she turned away from the sixth door, and shouted into the air, very much as she’d seen Merlin do earlier: “Come on Merlin! You can’t keep me out forever!”

Her voice echoed in the corridor. 

Frustrated, she tried another door, also locked, then another, wholeheartedly surprised, and quickly overbalancing when it swung open, willing her to enter, and offering her no barrier whatsoever. 

Raising her eyebrows, she paused briefly to recover herself before stepping forward into a room that was so familiar to her she wondered if she had been transported back to Camelot in that instant. It was Gaius’ chambers. 

The smells were like old friends: the herbs, mixtures he made in little bubbling pots. She came here when she was sick, had done since she was a child. But since Merlin had been living here, she’d visited more often, talking to him, asking his advice, helping him when things went wrong. 

She would miss this place terribly if he was no longer here. 

Walking in cautiously, she saw Gaius straight away sitting on a comfortable chair by the fire. He looked pensive, distracted and desperately sad. He was clutching something in his hand, but from where she was, she couldn’t see what it was. She walked closer. 

Out of manners if nothing else, she said his name. He hadn’t looked up when she came in, but that could of course be explained away by the fact he looked like a stampeding herd of wild boars could rush through the room and he’d barely notice. 

“Gaius?” she came closer, trying to look into his eyes. “Gaius?” 

“He can’t hear you.” 

She turned quickly. Merlin was leaning against the wall behind her, his arms folded. He looked more tired than when she’d seen him last, strained. 

“None of them can hear you,” he went on. “They’re figments, creatures of the crystal.” 

Gwen was torn between happiness at seeing him again, and frustration at the continuing situation: “You left me in the dark!” 

He glanced at her, a shred of sympathy crossing his eyes. “Sorry.” 

Gwen just shook her head then gestured with her hands. “Where are we now?” 

His brow furrowed. “You know where we are.” 

“I mean – when,” she clarified. “Why is Gaius so upset? I don’t remember this.” 

“That’s because you haven’t seen it,” Merlin said, levering himself off the wall with a slight grimace and coming over. “This is the present, not the past.” He stopped in front of his uncle, looking down at him with concern on his face. “He thinks I’m not coming back. He’s mourning me.” 

“But – you’re not dead,” she pointed out, coming over to stand beside him. 

“Well – give it time,” he said. 

“Don’t say that Merlin!” 

“What, it’s true,” he said. “Or if we believe the dragon it’s true. So there’s the question, do we believe the dragon?” He looked at Gwen intently for a few seconds, and she flinched under his scrutiny. “Did he tell you?” he suddenly asked. 

“What? Did – who – what?” she stuttered. 

“Gaius,” he clarified. “Did he tell you about my magic?” 

She considered lying, briefly, but figured it would be pointless. “Yes he did.” 

Merlin looked hurt. “He shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “You’re seriously telling me it’s not going to slip out to the prince one day by accident when you’re having one of your little chats – oh by the way, Arthur, did you know your servant’s a sorcerer?” 

“No!” she insisted. “Certainly not while Uther’s alive. And when he’s dead, and his vendetta against magic dies with him, you can tell Arthur yourself.”

He shook his head. “Arthur must never know. He wouldn’t understand.” 

“You should have more faith in him,” Gwen said sharply.

“As much as you do?” he shot back, and her mouth fell open, wondering if he could possibly know of her doubt in Arthur, but he hurried on before she could retort. “You knew I could see the future as well, didn’t you? Gaius told you that. He must have done if he told you about the cave. So is that why you’re really here?” he asked, his voice sounding cruel to her ears. “Not to save me, but to see what dark things await you, Guinevere, in the years that are to come? Did you really want to drag me back to your world where everything teeters on possibility? Wouldn’t you rather see the future?” 

She blinked. “Gaius did tell me,” she confessed, confused and upset by what he was saying. “But I just came here to get you back. I wouldn’t want to know what is to come.” 

He smiled then. “Not even a peek?” He turned then, walking away from her towards the wall. 

When his back was turned, she looked quickly at Gaius in concern, hating seeing him like this and feeling her resolve strengthen once more. This close, she could see what it was he had been holding, and was none the wiser for recognising it as a small roughly carved wooden dragon. 

“And now my lady Guinevere.” 

She snapped back to Merlin at his words. He was standing beside a semi-open door with his hand on the handle. Again it was a door that very much had not been there a few moments before.

“Care to see the future?” He held out his hand. 

She should have said no. 

She should have stopped at that point and talked to him, forced him to explain why he was acting so oddly, why he didn’t want to come back, why he was prepared to let a man he considered to be a father experience such pain on his behalf. But she was tempted. Who wouldn’t be? A glance of the future.

Before she knew it, she’d walked over and taken the hand he offered, and together, they passed through the door. 

They were still in Camelot, this time in the great feasting hall. All around them, the place was decorated with greenery and candles, and alive with music and laughter. Tables were set out for a great meal, laden with meats and cheeses and fruit and bread, and from the level of noise, the drink was clearly not in short supply either. 

Gwen looked around, entranced, seeing faces she recognised, and faces she didn’t. Everyone seemed so alive, so happy, and it filled her with joy to think of days like this to come. She glanced at Merlin, who was smiling slightly as he also looked around, but then she caught sight of the dias at the head of the room, and her mouth literally fell open. 

“What?” he wondered, seeing her expression. “Gwen?” 

“But I’m – I’m…” 

He followed her gaze. 

“I’m queen,” she whispered. 

And she was indeed. Sitting there at Arthur’s right hand, a crown on her head, a sumptuous dress on her shoulders. She was laughing at something Gwain, sitting next to her, was saying, while Arthur smiled and listened in, his gaze straying adoringly to his queen’s face as she laughed. 

Gwen felt tears prick her eyelids, and before she could stop them, they poured down her cheeks in sheer joy and bewilderment. 

She flinched slightly as something touched her face, but it was just Merlin dabbing at her cheeks with a cloth, smiling at her, his own eyes glistening. 

“For three years,” he said. “Camelot is prosperous and peace is reigning throughout the kingdom.” 

Gwen just shook her head, unable to take any of it in. Then as she did that, the scene shifted slightly, dissolving in and out. The room stayed the same, the people for the most part exactly where they had been, except a new figure was standing in the middle of the room, a man with a very strange-coloured complexion, a giant of a man, truly the tallest person Gwen had ever seen. And in front of him stood Gwain, dwarfed in comparison. He was holding an axe. 

“What is Gwain doing with that green knight?” she muttered to Merlin, confused. 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I haven’t figured all this out quite yet.” 

Gwain was looking back over his shoulder at Arthur, who just shrugged at him, clearly unsure what to do. They watched as he turned back to the giant in front of him, looking up into his face, then he too shrugged, and took a swing with his axe. 

Gwen gasped, pushing her face into Merlin’s shoulder as the weapon whistled towards the green knight’s exposed neck. She felt his arms close around her, hands rubbing soothingly on her back. 

When she looked up again, the hall, Gwain and the knight had all vanished, and she was standing amid thick fog once more. But this time at least, she was not alone. 

“What happened?” she wondered, blinking in the cold. 

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Merlin said. Then muttered as an after thought: “A very long story.” 

Gwen flinched as she heard a scream of pain somewhere away to her left, but Merlin ignored it. “Have you seen enough?” he demanded. 

“Haven’t you seen enough?” she demanded in return. He pushed her away, clearly frustrated. “You need to stop this and come back with me,” she insisted. “I can help you, but you need to want to come, that’s what the dragon said.” 

“Really? And what else did the dragon say, since you seem to be on such close speaking terms now?” 

“He said that you were lost,” she raised her voice. “That someone needed to help you find your way.” 

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and she thought, you are lost aren’t you. You don’t know how to stop this. That’s what all this bravado’s about.

Then suddenly the fog around them disappeared, like a wind had blown from the nether reaches of hell and chased it away, and in an instant, they were standing in the middle of a battle. Gwen gasped as she saw knight fighting knight, horses bleeding and dying, and everywhere was just wet and mud and gore. Even the trees she could see looked like pillars of death, standing sad amid the carnage. 

“No!” 

Merlin’s muttered word was so low that she barely caught it. He was looking around with horror on his face, shaking slightly the more he saw. “No.”

“Where are we?” Gwen all but shouted over the noises, but he didn’t answer, his breathing quickening. 

“Merlin, I think I keep coming back to this place,” she said insistently. “Where is it? What’s happening?” 

He just shook his head, his gaze drawn to two figures standing facing each other in the distance, clearly about to engage in combat. 

“No.” There were tears on his face now as the two began to fight, slamming into each other with such brute force that they could hear the impact of the blows over the noise of the battle. It was clearly not a chance fight, a challenge between knights who encountered each other with honour on the battleground. This looked personal.

Gwen frowned. She recognised that armour and that style of fighting. “Arthur?” she wondered. Then she gasped as the figure fighting Arthur suddenly lunged forward, his sword aiming straight for the king’s heart. 

“No!” Beside her, Merlin turned violently away, stumbling and falling to his knees, and the world around them shifted with a sickening lurch, and they were back at the lake she’d seen earlier, the two figures crouched by the shore, one cradling the other in his arms. 

Totally disorientated, and feeling dizzy, Gwen turned back to her companion to find him on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the scene in front of him, seeing himself mourning over his lost love. She crouched down beside him, heedless of the mud, putting a comforting arm round his shoulders. 

“Who was she?” she asked as gently as she could. 

He gulped, trying to catch his breath. “Freya,” he muttered, and closed his eyes. 

Gwen watched as the scene faded out again, waiting to see what would appear next, but there was nothing. The two of them were surrounded by thick blackness which no sound or sight could penetrate. 

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him, and held him close.

***

Gwaine was trying not to track the sun as is slowly started to sink through the western sky getting perceptively lower with every passing minute. But truth be told, he couldn’t help it. Nothing had changed. Both Merlin and Guinevere lay as they had since the dragon left, and he was powerless to do anything to help them. 

He had been pacing endlessly, his hand on his sword, wishing there was something tangible that he could fight. This wasn’t a situation he was used to. 

To date, his whole life had pretty much been about himself, certainly since his mother had died. He’d had no fixed home, and had moved about constantly, taking the hits as they came. He’d never had any aspirations to do anything, and even if he had, becoming a knight would have been fairly low down the list given what had happened to his father. But here he was, a knight, and settled. True it had only been about four weeks, but that was a lot for him. And where had it landed him: standing on a hilltop worrying like a woman. 

A large part of him wanted to leave, wanted to just ride and find the nearest tavern and the nearest tankard of something pleasingly warm and alcoholic and forget everything. He didn’t want this. 

He stopped pacing and glanced down at Lancelot, who hadn’t moved in hours now. He was still holding Gwen’s hand with a tenderness that Gwaine could easily see was more than just friendship. The two were perfect together as far as he was concerned. Of course Gwen had chosen Arthur over a poor knight, which servant would do differently? But it wasn’t fair. And now here she was laying her life on the line, and here was Lancelot clinging to the barest of hopes that she was going to be okay, knowing in his heart that even if she came back, she was going to be with somebody else. 

And then there was Merlin who had caused all of this in the first place. Well, okay, it hadn’t been his fault. But there he lay, a sorcerer of all things, or a warlock the dragon had called him. That must mean he was powerful. And then there was all this chat about some great prophecy? Trust Gwaine to befriend someone he thought was a skinny, gentle-hearted nobody only to find out he was more important that anyone realised. 

He sighed. How did he get himself into these situations? 

He glanced at the sun once more. It was definitely on its way down now, the end of the day would not be long. 

His gaze locked once more on Guinevere. 

“Whatever you’re doing in there, Gwen,” he muttered. “Do it faster.” 

***

“Tell me about Freya,” Gwen said eventually, when she felt him calm in her arms. He stilled at her question, and she thought he might pull away in anger. But this time he didn’t. 

He just sniffed. “She was a druid,” he said, with a slight catch in his voice. “I rescued her from a bounty hunter. We were going to run away together. But she died. She died and I couldn’t save her.” 

She moved back so that she could look at his face, and rubbed her thumbs under his eyes to chase away the tears. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think of to say. 

He looked up at the blackness around them and shook his head. “I can’t escape it, Gwen,” he said huskily, and in those words she finally heard the Merlin she knew. “I can’t escape this; the past the future. It’s all a blur of painful images and things I don’t want to know. And it hurts.” He put a palm to his forehead, rubbing it firmly. Then he looked at her sharply, a sudden fear in his eyes. “You should go,” he said earnestly. 

“I’m not leaving you,” she insisted.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “You don’t know the things I’ve seen. And I think I’ve lost control of it. The dragon shouldn’t have sent you. I was coping before you came, but it’s changed now. I don’t know why, but since you’ve been here, I can’t control it any more. I’m trying, but I can’t. It’s here and you can’t see it. You mustn’t see what will be. Not you. Anyone but you, Gwen.” 

“Why, why anyone but me? What’s so terrible in the future that I cannot see it?”

“Please,” he whispered, his face haunted. “Please don’t ask that.” 

Instantly, the world began to lighten around them. She looked at Merlin questioningly, but he was just looking back with a pleading expression on his face, willing her not to see what it seemed his mind couldn’t help but show her. 

She stood up. 

Around them now was a forest, beautiful dappled sunlight dropping between the trees and lighting every leaf into shimmering beauty. A brook bubbled past not far away, and all freshness and still. 

She heard voices and turned to see two figures coming towards them. She recognised one as herself, and the other as Lancelot. She glanced back at Merlin again, but he had lowered his head, eyes shut, clearly not wanting to see what was to come. 

Curious, she took a few steps away towards the future versions of herself and her friend so that she could hear what they were saying. 

“Have you heard from Arthur?” she caught Lancelot’s question, but only just, and hurried closer to hear her own reply. 

“No,” the queen version of Guinevere sighed. “And to be honest, I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.” 

“How long has it been?” 

“Since he wrote? He sent word about a month ago. They’d made it to the coast, and he was trying to charter a boat and crew to sail to some island he’d heard of.”

“And he thought the Grail might be there?” 

“There was a story it might have been,” she sighed again. 

“You are unhappy he’s gone so long?” Lancelot asked her, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“Of course I am,” she snapped back. Lancelot looked surprised at her anger. “He’s left me alone,” she went on. “Alone to manage all of this; to rule the kingdom.” 

“My lady, he would not have done so if he did not think you were capable.”

“Well, his faith is touching,” she sounded bitter. “But Arthur forgets that he trained for this from the moment he was born. I was born a servant, and there are plenty of people in court who feel that I should have remained so.” 

“They say that?” he was shocked. 

“Not to my face,” she confessed. “But they’re thinking it, I know they are.” 

“You should not doubt yourself so much, my lady. Arthur chose you, he married you out of all the ladies in court, all the ladies in the kingdom.”

“Arthur fell in love,” she corrected. “That’s not always the same thing as making the right decision.” 

They stopped beside a fallen tree, and despite her fine dress, Queen Gwen took a seat, the energy seeming to go out of her. Lancelot hovered in front, uncertain what to do. She looked up at him and her face softened. 

“You’ve always been such a good friend, Lancelot. What would I have done without you these past years?” 

“My lady, it has been and always will be an honour to serve,” he said with a slight bow, then took her words as an invitation to sit. 

She turned to him. “I do love Arthur,” she went on. “But he’s not here, and it just makes me so angry that I’ve been left to deal with everything. Can you understand?” He nodded, but seemed awkward for some reason. “What is it?” 

“It is not my place to – speak against the king,” he said. 

“You may speak freely with me, Lancelot,” she reassured him. “You know that.” 

“Then, my lady, I would say that Arthur was wrong. Yes, the Holy Grail is truly a great prize, worthy of any knight or king, but the protection of Camelot should always come first. And you above all else. If I were your king I would never leave your side – not even for a second.” 

Their eyes locked, and there for a moment, they were transported back to that dark cell where he had come to her, to comfort her, and wrapped his fingers around hers through that tiny grate, when all hope had seemed dashed. She remembered how he had saved her life without thought for his own. She remembered too all the times since then that she had seen sorrow behind his eyes when he looked at her, well hidden it was true, but a deep pain. She had never addressed it. Did not know how. Because she knew the cause. She had married Arthur, chosen that arrogant man over this gentle knight, who never asked for anything, who offered freely and without condition. 

She had never given him anything back. 

“I know you would not,” she whispered in response to his statement. 

“My lady,” he started to say as she began to lean towards him, but she raised her fingers to his lips. 

“Hush,” she whispered. 

And they kissed, alone there together in that clearing, with the sunbeams tumbling through the branches. 

Gwen watched herself, eyes open wide, tears starting, as she committed treason, as she betrayed the man she loved more than any other in the world. 

“No,” she exclaimed softly, turning back and running, stumbling through the forest to Merlin. She slid down in front of him. His eyes were still tightly shut. “Tell me it isn’t true!” she all but shouted. “Merlin, tell me that isn’t me! Tell I can never do that to Arthur! Tell me I can change the future!” Still no response. “Merlin!” 

As she grasped his arms in desperation, his eyes flared open, but they looked past her without recognition, and he cried out in pain, his hands going to his head.

Immediately, Gwen forgot her own problems, sympathy rushing through her like a drug as he squeezed his hands into fists and ground them into his temples trying to push the pain away. 

“I can’t stop it,” he said desperately. 

“Merlin?” Around them the world began to change again, but not like it had done before. Before it had always been a gentle fade: rain washing away a picture. This was too quick, images flashing past in a sickening surge. She remembered being young and her brother whirling her round and round and round until she felt the world would never stop spinning. She’d loved it then, but now, now she only wanted it to stop. They were at the centre of a maelstrom, a whirlwind of faces and places, and things she half-recognised, and things that were to come, and deaths and sorrow and laughter and pain.

“Merlin, concentrate,” she said, wrenching her gaze away from the images and back to his face. “You have to concentrate.” 

“I can’t,” he cried in desperation. “There’s too much.” 

“Merlin, listen to me,” she commanded, watching as he hung his head down, squeezing his face up with the effort of keeping everything in control. “Listen to me. You have to come back with me, you have to leave here. The dragon said you had the power to do it.” 

There was an image of her and Arthur. Her and Arthur fighting. Arthur screaming at her. Her crying. Pleading. Begging. She couldn’t help but look. He was so angry, so hurt. She looked away. 

“Merlin, please,” she pleaded, tears in her eyes. “Please. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

That made him open his eyes and look at her. He was shaking, gasping, but her words had cut through. She kept going. 

“You’ve done so much, so much we never even knew about. And I see all these things, these things that were a part of you, and I don’t know you as I should. None of us do.” She took his hands, holding them up. “Let me help you for a change. Let me take you back.” 

Merlin shook his head slowly. “I can’t Gwen,” he whispered. “There’s no way back from this. Not with this. Not with this in my head.” 

“But you can deal with it,” she soothed him. “I know you can. Because we’ll all help you. Me, Gwain, Gaius, Arthur…” 

At Arthur’s name he sucked in a breath, snatching his hands back from her, his eyes wide, and again around them, the image shifted, and they were back on the battlefield, screams and death all around them once more.

Gwen looked about her, fearful, but familiar with this scene. 

“Merlin, why do I keep coming back? What is this? What’s happening?”

He was looking away blankly, over her shoulder, at nothing, trying to look at nothing. “Camlan,” he whispered. 

“What’s Camlan?” 

A shout startled her, and she saw close at hand now the battle they’d watched from afar before, the two warriors facing each other with anger and hatred. One was clearly Arthur, the other’s face remained hidden behind his helm 

They sliced at each other, hitting hard and desperately. She could hear the clang of metal, see their bodies rebounding back against each blow, almost feel the strain on their muscles. Then the move came that she’d seen earlier: the unknown figure stabbed at Arthur, his blow aiming for his heart. She gasped, but Arthur blocked it and struck back, his blade striking true where his opponent had failed. 

There was a moment between the two as they locked gazes, then the figure fell backwards from Arthur, landing hard on the ground gasping. 

Gwen looked back at Merlin, but his gaze was still averted. “What is this battle?” She asked. “You said Camlan.” 

“Camlan,” he repeated in a whisper. 

“And what’s so special about Camlan?” he didn’t answer her. “Merlin, this must be it. Whatever happens here, it’s stopping you. It’s blocking you finding your way back. You’re stuck here. That’s why I’m stuck here. That’s why I keep coming back.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whipped round as she heard Arthur speak, and her eyes widened as she saw how old he had become. He’d removed his helmet to speak to his dying opponent, an act of honour and nobility that she was not surprised to see. But he looked so different to her Arthur, so careworn, lined. He reminded her of Uther, she realised: one who had seen too much of the world, one who had seen too much of death.

Then the figure on the ground struggled out of his helm in turn. A flash of recognition ran through her when she saw his striking blue eyes, but she did not know his name. 

“It was always meant to end this way, Pendragon,” the figure said. “Your wizard knew that.” 

“Leave Merlin out of this,” Arthur said. “What has happened this day is between you and me. Your army must stop now. They can not go on without a leader.”

“Ah but they can, Arthur – king,” he said mockingly. “For both sides will be leaderless today, and an army led by the dead is no army at all.” 

Arthur frowned, and seemed unsure what to say or do, and in that moment, the man on the ground reached out and managed to snag a leather strap of the king’s armour, acting so unexpectedly as to catch Arthur off balance and pull him forward. And the man’s sword was waiting. 

Gwen felt her world split as she watched Arthur fall, his body pierced by the sword of his felled opponent and landing heavily on the ground beside them like an armoured tree. Blood pounded in her ears, a void screaming up and eating her whole, and she gasped, no words coming. 

“It was all for nothing,” said a quiet, desperate voice at her elbow. “No matter what I do.” Merlin shook his head, he still wasn’t looking at the scene, his eyes fixed on the grey horizon. “I can’t save him.” 

***

The sound of Gwen’s crying filled the blackness around them, a pitiful sound of desperation and despair. Merlin just knelt where he was, unable to comfort her, lost in his own misery and massaging his painful head in an attempt to drive away his awful headache. He was so focussed that when she grabbed him, her nails digging into his arms, he gasped in shock and surprise. 

“Why did you show me that?” she demanded angrily, her face red and swollen from crying. 

Merlin shook his head as vigorously as his headache allowed. “I didn’t,” he insisted. 

“You took me there,” she went on. “I keep going back there. Why?” 

“I don’t know!” he cried. “I’m not controlling this, I swear. Please, just go, Gwen. I told you, you shouldn’t be here.” 

“Well tough!” she cried back. “I am here. And I think I’ve probably seen it now, the worst the future has to throw at me. What else have you got in here? What other terrible truths are there still waiting in the darkest reaches of your brain?” 

His eyes brimmed with tears as he looked into her face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed his arms again, but her eyes had closed, and her anger had faded. This wasn’t his fault. God knows it wasn’t his fault. It was her future. It was her nightmare. 

It was her fault. 

She let him go, sinking back onto her heels, exhausted. Merlin just looked at her, sympathy in his face. “We can’t change the future, Gwen,” he said softly. “We can’t change what must be.” 

“Really?” she said. “Well if that’s the case, then why are you still here?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re part of Arthur’s future; your magic, your friendship. Whatever else happens, I know that. And if you’re here, then you can’t be all those things to him. So why are you still here?” 

He shook his head slightly. 

“It’s the battle,” she insisted. “It has to be that battle. 

“No,” he whispered. “You’re wrong.” 

“It’s Arthur’s death,” she guessed. “You can’t face it. You can’t see it. All these other terrible things,” she swallowed her tears. “All these other things you can see, and they hurt, but they don’t hurt like that. Because he’s part of you. He’s part of what you are and what you do. That man, that man he killed, he said you knew that it would end like that. And yet you didn’t stop it.” 

“I can’t!” he yelled at her, shockingly loud. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Don’t you understand! I’ve got – all this power, Gwen. They say I’m the – most powerful warlock to ever be born. I have more magic than any of them – all the others put together, and I still can’t stop it! So what’s the point? What’s the point of seeing all of this and not being able to prevent it? It’s all for nothing. He still dies, no matter what I do. I’ve tried to change it. I’ve done a hundred things differently Gwen, but no matter what I do, I can’t change anything. I go back to that place and Arthur still dies. He still dies. And I can’t – see him die. I can’t see it!” 

As the tears fell once more, Gwen finally understood. Merlin had trapped himself here trying to change the future. All this time, he’d been using his clearly considerable skills to try and manipulate the images he was living through, change things for the better. And it was making no difference. The course was set. 

And all fates are thus. We wish our futures happy because we cannot bear them to be any other way. If we knew with certainty that tragedy would strike, as strike it surely must, then it would break our hearts. 

And what do you do, when you cannot change what must be? Do you fight it, crying scorn at the heavens and battering with useless fists against inevitability until it ends you? Or do you accept it? Do you find a way to live with the future, because although it is coming, although the bony fingers of time are tapping on your shoulder, they do not have you in their grasp just yet. And between where you stand and the future you fear, lie all those days in between. 

“Yes,” she said finally, trying to look into his eyes. “Yes,” she said again. “You can.” 

Merlin looked up and met her gaze, and they both knew suddenly what had to happen. 

There was a scream, and the sound of a horse neighing in fear. Metal crashed on metal, and everywhere was the stink of mud and blood and death. 

Beside them, Arthur was fighting his opponent, steel on steel. 

Gwen and Merlin were locked on each other’s faces, and she could see Merlin’s lips moving as he pleaded with her: “Don’t make me look. Please don’t make me look.”

She nodded encouragingly, trying to smile slightly, though she knew no humour in their situation. 

She heard the sound of Arthur’s killing stroke, felt rather than saw the body of his opponent fall to the ground. Their words were a blur, a hazy noise on the wind. 

Then Merlin turned and looked. 

Arthur fell. 

Instantly, the world tipped and crashed, and she felt as if she was falling through a void of never ending darkness, the wind rushing past her ears filled with the sounds of the screams of dead men and dead stories, legends out of time, and myths out of place. 

She gasped. And opened her eyes as the last light of the setting sun shone briefly on her face before vanishing behind the distant mountains. 

“Guinevere!” she was immediately gathered into Lancelot’s strong embrace, mere seconds after her eyes had opened. He clutched at her desperately, while Gwen fought to hold onto her memories of the place she had just been. But, like a dream on waking, they were fading; all the images, the things she’d seen, passing away. 

She pulled back from Lancelot, uncomfortable without knowing why, awkward suddenly. He looked at her confused. Then she caught sight of Gwaine walking up in front of them and standing at Merlin’s feet. 

“You couldn’t save him, then,” the knight said soberly, and sniffed. 

Fear stabbing her, she turned quickly, flinching away from Lancelot’s touch as all her concern turned to Merlin. Gwaine was right: the warlock hadn’t so much as stirred beside them. 

“No!” she insisted. “I thought… We solved it – it was alright.” She looked desperately at her friend’s still face, willing him not to be dead, knowing somehow that whatever her last act had been in that misty world, it should have been enough to end Merlin’s imprisonment in his own mind. But maybe she had been too late. Maybe Gwaine was right. 

Then she noticed a minute glimmer at the outer edge of his eyelids as a faint trickle of a tear leaked out and flowed down his cheek. Weakly, Merlin lifted his hand to wipe the tear away, but he seemed confused by the bandages that were still wrapped thickly around his palms and fingers. He cracked open his eyes to investigate why his hand felt so heavy and awkward, and as he turned it over curiously, he caught sight of his friends all looking down on him with concern. He dropped the hand onto his chest. 

Gwen smiled at him, her relief evident, and he smiled back, blinking heavily, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“Welcome back my friend!” Gwaine announced loudly and cheerfully, still standing at Merlin’s feet. The warlock’s eyes tracked round to the knight, and his smile broadened just a little. “How are you feeling?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, but slowly, as if he couldn’t even find the energy for that. “Felt better,” he whispered. 

“Just rest,” Gwen said, placing her palm on his cheek and wiping away his tears with her thumb, feeling a strong surge of déjà vu as she did so. She shook it off quickly. “There’s nothing you need to do in the world, Merlin. There’s nothing you need to do.” 

***

Gaius stood with his hands clasped together in front of him, trying to ignore Arthur as the prince paced incessantly. The courtyard was busy in the afternoon sunshine, people going about their business with scarcely a glance at the prince and the physician, certainly unaware of the strain they were both feeling as they waited. 

“How long can it take to ride half a damn mile!” Arthur eventually exclaimed, kicking out at the stone wall as he passed it. 

“They have a cart,” Gaius pointed out with patience. “That slows them down.” 

“It’s not like they’re shipping lead!” he retorted. 

“They will be here soon enough,” Gaius said. “And all the happier I’m sure for seeing that you hadn’t worn a groove into the courtyard when they get here,” he went on pointedly, glowering at the prince. 

“Yes, of course,” Arthur conceded with a sigh, stilling his feet, though it obviously took him quite an effort to do so. 

As Gaius turned back to the gate, he was rewarded with the sight of Lancelot riding through on his chestnut mare, and then Gwaine sitting at the front of the cart driving it. The townspeople cleared out of the way to let the rumbling cart past, glancing curiously at the travellers, but otherwise paying them little heed. Both knights seemed cheerful, their faces breaking into smiles when they saw Gaius and Arthur waiting for them. 

Seeing Gwen sitting in the back of the cart, the welcoming party moved round as Gwaine pulled his horse to a stop and made to jump down. The maidservant too was smiling broadly, and as they reached the back of the cart, she leaned forward and spoke to the figure lying beside her, shaking his shoulder gently. 

Both Arthur and Gaius sighed in relief as they saw the figure’s eyes flicker open, squinting in the bright sunshine. Then Merlin looked directly at them, his lips curling upwards as his friend and his uncle came into view, and Arthur felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. The relief was incredible. 

“Welcome back!” he said loudly, not specifying who he was talking to, but then, not really needing to. “You all alright?” 

Gwen just nodded, pressing her lips together. She looked exhausted and travel stained, but to Arthur, she had never seemed more beautiful. 

Then Gaius spoke at his shoulder. “My lord,” he said. “I would like to get Merlin to my chambers as soon as possible.” 

“Yes of course,” Arthur said, looking around. “I’ll get someone to come and help us move him.” 

“That’s alright,” said Gwaine coming forward. He looked as exhausted as Gwen, his normally shining hair lank and lying flat to his head. “We’ll take him.” And he nodded to an equally tired Lancelot standing at the cart’s other side. 

“Alright,” Arthur said, and Gwen stood up and moved out of the way to give them room, accepting the hand Arthur offered to help her step down. He kissed her briefly, a welcome-back kiss, an I’m-glad-you’re-alive kiss, a never-leave-me-again kiss. And she kissed him back, willingly enough, though with a certain hesitancy that she could not control. 

Arthur seemed to sense something and pulled back. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at her face with concern. 

She just smiled tiredly. “It was a long trip,” she explained. 

“Well,” the two of them stepped back to allow Lancelot and Gwaine out of the cart with Merlin held between them. “Maybe you should all get some rest.” 

***

When Gaius pushed open the door to Merlin’s room the next morning, he had a brief moment of fear that his ward’s condition had returned. The boy was staring up blankly at his window, a vacant expression on his face, and he didn’t immediately react to the noise of someone entering his chamber. But then he seemed to realize he wasn’t alone and turned, flashing his uncle a smile, which although it didn’t reach his eyes, was enough to satisfy Gaius. 

He came over to the bed, looking down at Merlin warmly. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, as he’d actually been surprised to find Merlin awake. The previous day the boy had been so tired that he could hardly get two words out of him. 

“I slept enough,” Merlin told him in a quiet voice. Then his eyes narrowed. “What’s all that?” 

Gaius was holding in front of him a tray laden with every type of food imaginable under the sun. There was bread, meat, cheese, fruit, even a bowl of what looked like pudding, and another bowl covered by a plate. 

“Arthur,” Gaius explained, putting the tray down on the table beside Merlin’s bed, “Had the kitchens send up some food for you. A lot of food. There’s more outside. Enough to feed half the army! I think it may be his way of trying to build you up.” 

Merlin groaned slightly, his stomach clenching at the thought of even trying to eat all that rich food. 

“As a physician on the other hand,” Gaius went on, sitting down. “I am aware of the effects that a prolonged lack of food can have on a person’s stomach, and I have prepared you…” he reached over and took the plate off the hidden bowl. “Some soup.” 

Merlin sighed in relief. “Gaius,” he said gratefully. “What would I do without you?” 

“Don’t say that,” Gaius smiled. “You haven’t tasted it yet.” 

“Well, whatever it tastes like, I certainly appreciate it,” Merlin said, trying to push himself upwards in the bed, but finding it awkward with his hurt hands. They were no longer bound with bandages, but they were still stiff and sore. Gaius leaned forward to prop his pillows up behind him, and he nodded in thanks. “Here,” he handed him a cup of water to drink, and he took it between both hands, draining it down as quickly as he could. Gaius took the cup back and picked up the soup bowl. Both of them seemed to realize that although he’d managed a cup, a spoon was going to require just a bit too much dexterity, and so Gaius carefully began to feed him spoonfuls without a comment on either side. 

The physician chatted away as they sat there, telling Merlin of the events in court, what had been happening with Uther, and the situation with the neighbouring kingdoms. His nephew ate silently, paying attention, but contributing nothing.

Gaius put the empty bowl back on the tray when he was finished, and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. “So, are you ready to talk about what happened?” 

Merlin looked down at his hands and started rubbing his right thumb over his left palm, awkward suddenly, and not looking particularly ready to talk about anything. 

Gaius pressed his lips together, aware of his discomfort, but knowing things needed to be said. “Let’s start with Alvarr,” he suggested gently. 

“You can probably guess what he wanted,” Merlin muttered, still not looking up. 

“For you to tell him the future?” The memory of Alvarr’s quest for the Crystal of Neahtid was still sharp in Gaius’ mind. The sorcerer had been obsessed with the idea of seeing what the future held by any means possible. 

The boy nodded, sighing. “He was nice to me at first,” Merlin picked at a loose thread in the blanket. “He said he understood why I’d hidden all these years, but that now it was time to use my powers to help him take control of the kingdom, to kill Uther and put magic once more in its rightful place.” He looked up, hatred in his eyes. “I said no.” 

“And so he put you in the cave?” Gaius guessed.

Merlin smiled darkly. “I don’t know how he found out about it – or me and what I could do. But he said that if I would not willingly look into the crystals, then he would force me. He said I would stay in the cave until I told him what I saw, or until the visions drove me mad. He said there were stories of soothsayers from years gone by who’d scratched out their own eyes from the visions. I think he was just trying to scare me – but I suppose it isn’t that far from the truth.” 

Gaius nodded, the warnings he’d read about the crystals now making sense. “What do you remember about being in the cave?” 

Merlin shrugged: “Very little. I remember being thrown in, and landing hard. It took me a minute to get back up again, and by then, they were already pushing a stone across the entrance. Daylight was being blotted out, and all around me I could feel the crystals pulsing in the darkness, calling to me.” His face twisted with emotion. “I screamed at them, begged them to let me out. I tried to push the stone away, but I couldn’t even move it a little. Then the call began to get too much. The pull. Gaius I couldn’t stop it. They made me look. I couldn’t help myself. And once I’d started, once they’ve sucked me in, I couldn’t stop. It just went on and on and on until I lost myself.”

“You don’t remember why Alvarr left, or Arthur coming to rescue you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Do you remember what you saw – in the crystals?” Gaius had already spoken to Gwen, knew that she could remember nothing of what she’d seen after the dragon transported her inside Merlin’s visions. She remembered it being dark, and of being afraid, but if she’d been privy to any knowledge of the future, it was gone and never coming back. 

For Merlin, it was different. 

“Yes,” he said in a hushed voice, his eyes haunted, staring blankly down his bed. 

Gaius felt himself shiver, but needed to ask the next question. “What did you see?” 

“Everything,” Merlin told him, his eyes remaining on his feet. “I saw everything.” 

“Everything?” Gaius repeated, aghast. 

Merlin turned sharply, fixing Gaius in his gaze. “Everything that has been, everything that is, and everything that will be until the end of time,” he expanded. “I watched Uther making his deal with Nimueh, I saw the purge. I felt the pain of every sorcerer, and every innocent as they burned for his anger and grief. I saw every noble deed that Arthur has ever done and will ever do. I saw the kingdoms preparing for battle, and Uther’s death, and the world changing, and people’s fears, and their loves and their nightmares, everywhere, just hurt and pain and suffering – so much suffering!” Tears filled his eyes. “It’s everywhere Gaius! All these things are in my head, and I don’t know what to do with them! I see them every moment I am awake, and when I sleep, they chase me into my dreams!” He brought his hands up and covered his eyes, his distress coming suddenly and seeming to fill up every space in the room with sadness. 

Gaius leaned forward, openly shocked. “Merlin, look at me. Look at me!” he finished more stridently, and this time, his nephew lowered his hands from his red eyes and did as he was told. “I’m going to help you.” 

“You can’t,” he shook his head firmly. Then his face changed again, hardening, accusing. “I saw you stand by and watch them Gaius. All those people. You watched them burn and you did nothing!” 

Gaius was taken aback at his words, and it took him a few seconds to respond. “If you’re talking about the great purge, there was nothing I could do. Uther was a powerful king. He’d made his mind up and nothing I could have done would have made the slightest bit of difference.” 

Merlin’s expression softened again, his eyes glazing as if were seeing far away. “I saw you help my father,” he muttered quietly. “You gave him food, put him on a horse. Led him outside the city walls. He told you he could hear the dragon screaming in his mind as they chained it in the darkness.” 

Gaius sat back, suddenly seeing that moment himself clearly, plucking it from the shelves of his memory and turning its pages. It was horribly disconcerting to have his whole life come under such scrutiny. “Merlin you have to find a way to control this,” he said earnestly.

“But I don’t know how!” he protested. “How do I look at people again knowing who they are, knowing their very souls? How do I go on knowing that we’re all black inside Gaius, all of us, we have these emotions and feelings and we do these things – these terrible things when no one is looking. These are my friends. I don’t want to know this about them. I don’t want this knowledge in my head!” 

“With time it will become easier,” Gaius soothed him, leaning forward again. “Maybe with time, you’ll learn how to pack the visions away and only access them when you need to.” Merlin shook his head vigorously, but Gaius went on. “And maybe this is part of your destiny, part of how you help Arthur to be the king he needs to become.”

Merlin sniffed. “I saw the end Gaius. I saw how pointless it all is.” 

“Then you saw the wrong things,” Gaius said firmly. “The future isn’t about a destination, Merlin. It’s not about becoming one thing, or doing one thing. It’s about every day. It’s about the tiny moments that make up a life, the joys and pains that make us who we are. We shape the future by living, by being ourselves – and maybe it doesn’t turn out how we would have wished, and maybe we could always have been better people. But things always turn out the way they were meant to.”

Merlin looked at him, willing his words to be right. 

“You are very special, Merlin. You always have been. And I think only someone with your abilities could have endured what you’ve been through and come out the other side. Look at the knowledge you have now. Think how you can use it for good, to guide those around you, to ease the pain and suffering that you have seen.”

Merlin tried to steady his breathing. Inside, the visions scratched at him, mocked him, showed him mercilessly how awful life was, how futile the struggle, how empty the victories. But somehow, he had to hold on to Gauis’ words. 

Maybe this was who he was: a soothsayer now, a wise man grown old before his time. This was his destiny. Time to put away his childish visions of a Camelot whose light would last for all time. Time now to simply accept what must be. 

He scrubbed away the last of his tears, feeling drained, the effort of simply eating and talking taking more out of him than a day’s hard labour would have in the past. 

Gaius seemed to sense that, and smiled reassuringly. “You should get some rest,” he said, patting him on the arm before getting up, lifting the tray and making his way to the door. 

“Thank you,” Merlin called, almost as an afterthought, his guardian’s words still ringing in his ears. Think how you can use it for good.

Gaius looked back at him from the door. “And don’t think you’re staying in that bed for the rest of time either,” he warned. “You’ll be getting up this afternoon, whether you like it or not.” 

Merlin groaned slightly, but knew there was no point in protesting. Instead, he got himself settled back down, and tried once more to fall asleep. 

***

Gaius was as good as his word, and that afternoon after more soup, he recruited the help of Gwaine to assist his nephew in getting back on his feet. And a shaky business it was too. It had been pretty much a week now since Merlin had last walked, and his legs seemed to have forgotten most of what was required of them. But they persisted, Gwaine’s humour helping to take the edge off what could have been an awkward situation for everyone. 

“Merlin, I’ve known toddlers with more coordination than you!” 

“Really? Well I’ve known toads with better manners than you!” 

“Oh, come on, that wouldn’t be hard, would it? In fact, it’s probably more of an insult to the rest of the toads who you think have worse manners than me.” 

“Gwaine – shut up!” 

But it worked, and an hour of badgering, insults and a lot of support (emotional and physical) saw the warlock not only standing but taking a few steps, and then finally able to make the journey – with Gwaine’s help – to Gaius’ fireside, where he collapsed into a chair, exhausted. 

Gaius left him there with Gwaine for company as he went off to see to his rounds, and the two chatted away for a good while about magic and the things Merlin had seen and done, his relationship with the dragon, his destiny. 

“Arthur mustn’t know,” he’d insisted, seeming to realise suddenly that he’d given a lot away in a short period of time. 

“Hey, this is me,” Gwaine had shot back. “How likely is it that I’m going to be shooting my mouth off to nobility about a friend’s secrets?” 

“And the others?” Merlin had asked worriedly. 

“They won’t say anything, I promise,” Gwaine had assured him. “You’ve got good friends, Merlin. You should trust them.” 

“I do,” he smiled. “It’s just a lot to ask.” 

“Nothing is too great.” 

Their talk had turned to other things, until eventually, Gwaine said he had to leave. Arthur’s training session would be starting in about an hour, and he still had to sort out his armour. 

“Gaius should be back soon, though,” he said. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” 

“Gwaine, I can summon thunderstorms with a thought,” Merlin said, though truth be told he hadn’t tried to so much as move a cup since he’d been back. He was fairly sure he could still do it, he just felt too tired to try. “I think I can survive for half an hour on my own.” 

“Alright,” Gwaine got up, and looked at him seriously. “It is good to have you back.” 

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled. “For everything.”

When the knight left, Merlin sat, thinking. He’d done a lot of that in the last few days. Thinking. Talking. Having to explain himself and what he could do over and over. He wasn’t used to it. His magic had been secret for so long that the concept of people knowing and being interested and simply accepting what he was, was a little strange to him. 

He’d talked to Gwen the most as they’d travelled back, as much as he’d been able. He was so aware of what his friend had done for him, it seemed the least he could do. They had a lot to talk about after all, and she could remember nothing, while he could not forget. 

But Gaius had been right, of course. When was Gaius not right? Even in the short period since their talk, he was actually feeling more in control. It was like he’d talked himself into it, or rather Gaius had talked him into it. He was finding a place for things, for all these terrible things, and they didn’t seem quite so overwhelming and all-consuming anymore. 

They were still there, all the visions, and as he sat there, he found himself drawn to the fire. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he could hear the screams of all those people Uther had put to death, however hard he tried to blot them out. They were there in the flames, their eyes watching him, pleading with him, asking him to not let their deaths be in vain. He concentrated hard, let the screams wash over him briefly, then worked at blocking them out.

“Merlin?” 

He whipped round, having been so absorbed in his task that he hadn’t heard the door open. It was Arthur. 

“My lord,” he said, feeling slightly caught off guard. 

Arthur smiled awkwardly, never particularly good at this sort of thing. “Uh, should I come back later?” 

“No – come in,” Merlin insisted, relieved to find that the screams had indeed faded to a more manageable level. Arthur nodded and came forward, closing the door behind him. “Sorry if I – don’t get up,” Merlin went on, his face breaking into a bit of a grin. 

“Yes, well you always were disrespectful whenever possible,” Arthur said, pulling up a chair to come and sit beside him. “Any excuse I suppose.” 

“Of course.” 

“So how are you doing? I saw Gaius and he said you were up and about.” 

“Well, not about really,” Merlin shrugged. “But out of bed anyway.” 

“Good. Because the servant who’s waking me up in the morning now is possibly one of the smelliest people I have ever come across in Camelot. It’s actually making me look forward to when you’ll be able to come back and take over again.” 

“I’m so happy, sire, you’re missing me for my ability to wash,” Merlin shot back. 

Arthur snorted, then became serious. “I’m genuinely sorry for what happened to you,” he said. “Gaius said it was a strong enchantment you were under. It’s good that his friend was able to break it.” 

“Uh, yes,” Merlin said, playing along with his uncle’s lie, realising that Arthur would have demanded an explanation, and it was as close to the truth as they were probably able to get.

“Seems that maybe magic can occasionally be used for good,” Arthur conceded. “Whatever my father may say.” 

“Yes,” Merlin said more firmly. 

“Yes well, let’s just keep that one under our hats for now shall we. Whoever this friend of Gaius’ is, if my father found out he was using magic, he’d still execute them, no matter what good they’d done.” 

Merlin was curious. “Would you?” he asked directly. 

“What?” 

“If you knew someone had used magic for good – if they’d saved the kingdom or someone’s life, and magic had been the only way. Would you still put them to death?” 

Arthur looked surprised by the question, but avoided it. “It wouldn’t be my decision,” he said. “My father’s laws may be harsh, but he is the king.” 

Merlin just gazed at him, his eyes serious. “He will not be king forever,” he said. “And when these decisions are yours you must make them wisely, for all our sakes.” 

Arthur looked at him curious about his tone, the way he’d said what he’d said. But before he could ask more, Gaius came blustering in, his rounds clearly complete. He didn’t seem at all surprised to find the crowned prince sitting in his chambers. 

“Ah, Arthur.” 

“Gaius.” 

“Come to visit?” 

“Yes, I can’t stay though,” he excused himself, starting to get to his feet. “I’ve got training and then another war council to attend,” he groaned. “King Alstor seems to still be intent on testing our borders, and now King Olaf is getting in on the act too. Our scouts have seen him massing an army, thousands strong, and God knows we can’t fight a battle on two fronts.”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about King Olaf,” Merlin put in suddenly, sniffing and reaching for the cup that was sitting on the table beside him. 

“And why’s that now?” Arthur asked, amused. 

“Because he’s not going to attack Camelot,” Merlin said matter of factly, taking a drink. Arthur glanced at Gaius, confused, then back at his servant. Gaius for his part had opened his eyes wide at what his nephew was saying, and Merlin faltered slightly when he saw that expression, realizing he was speaking out of turn. Matters of war were, after all, not supposed to be his area. 

“Why do you think he’s not going to attack Camelot?” Arthur was genuinely curious now. Everyone else he’d been talking to on this matter had seen Olaf’s preparations as a sign of impending war. Now his servant had just dismissed the threat out of hand. 

Merlin quickly got a hold of himself, ignoring Gaius’ expression. “Olaf and Alstor hate each other, don’t they?” he said.

“That’s pretty much a given,” Arthur agreed. “But they settled their differences about a year ago. We were told there was a treaty.” 

“And isn’t something like, oh I don’t know, a non-aggression pact likely to have been part of that treaty?” Merlin said, still speaking lightly, as though what he was saying was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Arthur was silent.

“Gwaine told me that Alstor has been building his army for days now,” Merlin went on. “Mounting raids on Camelot. He’s probably using mercenaries as well because by all accounts, he doesn’t have much of an army. And mercenaries as we all know, are hardly the most trustworthy of men. I’ll bet you anything they haven’t just been raiding across Camelot’s borders, but into Olaf’s kingdom as well. Now, if I were Olaf, I’d see that as a threat, in fact I’d probably see it as a sign that the non-aggression pact had been broken, and I’d start to build up my own army in case Alstor decided to attack me. Olaf has never shown any interest in attacking Camelot before, has he? I’ll bet you anything he’s only worried about his own border.”

Arthur was standing there with his mouth open. It seemed so obvious when Merlin said it, but how had his servant, who had little experience of military matters, who never sat in council meetings, or to Arthur’s knowledge, knew or even cared that much about the machinations of the neighbouring kingdoms, figured all that out in the blink of an eye, when his own councillors had been struggling with the matter for a day now without coming to the same conclusion. 

It took him a moment to speak. “My God, you could be right,” he said, staggered. “Why didn’t we think of that before? How did you come up with that?” 

Merlin glanced at Gaius, whose eyes if anything, were wider than they had been before. He just smiled nonchalantly. “I’m just looking outside the problem,” he said. “Coming at it from a different angle.” 

Arthur still looked shocked, and also glanced at Gaius, who tried to smile. “Merlin’s always been good at thinking up solutions to things like that,” he said, trying to pass off his nephew’s words as normal. “It’s just the way his mind works.” 

“I’ve never seen much evidence before that his mind worked at all,” Arthur said jokily, glancing back at his slight servant, sitting so innocently by the fire, now harbouring untold knowledge in his head. “Thank you,” he said genuinely. “I’ll take that thought to the council meeting, I’m sure it will go down well.” 

Merlin smiled and nodded, inwardly relieved that Arthur had not questioned him further. 

Arthur nodded to Gaius as well, turning to go. But then, just as he reached the door, he stopped, and turned back. “Merlin,” he said. “Have you ever… what would you say about attending the council yourself, when you’re back on your feet?” 

“Sire?” 

Arthur’s face grew serious. “I mean it,” he said. “I know that I haven’t always been the easiest person to work for, and I know that I haven’t always taken you seriously, or ever taken you seriously, or listened to what you have to say, but, I do know that there’s more inside you than most people would give you credit for. Maybe it’s about time you stopped mucking out stables and doing my laundry, and took more of an – an – I don’t know, and advisory role instead. Would you be interested in that? Do you think you could deal with it?” 

Merlin felt pride swell suddenly inside of him. Arthur never said these things to him, and now to have them said openly, in front of Gaius… But then he stopped himself. The darkness that was still lurking in the corners of his brain began to leach into his vision, the terrible future that he had seen, that Gwen had forced him to watch. He saw his friend before him become old, he saw him fighting Morded on the terrible battlefield of Camlan. He saw him strike down his enemy, and then fall, pierced by his sword, blood flowing from his wounds…

“Merlin?” 

He snapped back, unaware of how long he’d allowed himself to disappear inside his head. He felt himself shaking slightly. “Um” he said, looking down. “I’m – I’m not feeling all that great. Can I talk to you about this tomorrow?” 

“Of course,” Arthur said smartly. “Just get some rest.” 

He turned to go, but then Merlin’s voice stopped him one last time. “And Arthur,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if it pained him. “At the council meeting, you might suggest they take more of an interest in the harvest as well.” 

Now Arthur looked thoroughly confused. Farming wasn’t exactly something that usually came up at council meetings. “The harvest?” 

“With all the fighting that’s been going on, the people haven’t been tending their crops as they should,” Merlin said, not looking at him, and still rubbing his head. “We may find that the harvest is not as good as in recent years, and I think it’s going to be a hard winter.” 

“A hard winter?” 

Merlin nodded a little, and then said distractedly. “If my memory serves me well.” 

Arthur let out a little gasp of exasperated air at the continual ways his servant was surprising him today. “I’ll certainly mention it,” he said, shaking his head. “Any more little gems of wisdom that you’d like to impart?”

Merlin just shook his head, not looking at Arthur, and the prince blew out a breath and left finally, closing the door firmly behind him. 

“Merlin,” Gaius moved quickly over to him, crouching down so he could look him in the face. “Are you alright?” 

Merlin shook his head, still feeling himself shaking. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said, his voice breaking. 

“You’re doing fine,” Gaius assured him. 

“Arthur must think I’m mad,” he said. 

Gaius smiled. “And is that such a terrible thing?” he said. “He’s going to make you an advisor, Merlin, with a place on the council. You can really start to influence things now. This is where it begins. And one day, you’ll be Arthur’s councillor, and with your magic, together you’ll bring years of prosperity to these lands.” 

Merlin smiled a crooked smile at him. “Now who’s seeing the future,” he said. 

“It’s inevitable,” Gaius told him. “I knew your path would lead you here from the first time I met you.” He squeezed his arms reassuringly. “It’s always been your destiny,” he said. 

“Yes, well,” Merlin said tiredly, seeing the room start to spin slightly around him. “Can I fulfil my destiny tomorrow? I think I’ve done enough for today.” 

“Indeed,” Gaius said standing up and looking down at the warlock, feeling pride grow within him that he’d lived long enough to see him become the man he was. “I think tomorrow will do just fine.” 

***

Gwen looked out over the castle’s battlements, the clear air allowing her to see for miles all around. The bright sun belied the season, as the days of autumn passed steadily onwards, tingeing the trees with red, and turning the crops golden. Birds filled the air screaming with joy as they feasted on the remaining insects and prepared for their long migrations ahead. A chill wind was blowing, and she felt it strike her flesh through her thin dress, wishing she’d thought to wear a cloak. 

She watched the knights begin to gather on the training ground below her, laughing and joking with each other. The mood had definitely lifted around court since their return, and she knew it was due simply to Arthur’s improved temper, and the relaxed smile he now had on his face whenever she saw him. Even though the kingdom was still unsettled, and problems faced them at every turn, he seemed happier now that they were problems he could fight and find solutions for. 

Gwen herself didn’t feel quite so settled. She was definitely glad that she’d undertaken the quest to bring Merlin back to himself, and was happier than she could say that they’d been successful. But she felt that somehow, somewhere on that long road, she’d lost something, and it was going to take her some time to recover. There had been so much change, so many secrets revealed in such a short time, and most disconcerting of all was not actually being able to remember most of what she’d done. From the moment the dragon had breathed on her, to waking up in Lancelot’s arms, all she had was a sense, feelings, vague flashes. She didn’t understand it, and she was afraid.

On the way back, she’d talked to Merlin as much as he was able, and he’d claimed that his experience was the same; that he remembered very little of what they’d both seen. But Gwen didn’t trust him. She didn’t know if it was the recent revelations about who Merlin was and what he could do, or if it was something about his expression as he was speaking, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was lying to her. That left her with the question why, and with the inexplicable awkwardness she was now feeling towards certain individuals in the palace, it left her with a sense of extreme disquiet. 

She heard a noise behind her, and turned, startled, to see Lancelot in full armour. 

Speaking of disquiet…

“Aren’t you supposed to be at training?” she asked him automatically. 

“I’m on my way there,” he said. “But I saw you and – you seemed upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

She turned away from him, peering back down at the knights, and using that as an excuse not to look at him as he came closer. “Arthur will be angry if you’re late,” she said, trying to make him leave with a legitimate reason. 

“Then he can be angry,” Lancelot said, unmoved. 

“He does seem in a better mood now than he was,” she went on, talking for the sake of it.

“He was certainly very relieved when we returned,” Lancelot agreed, now level with her. He put his hands out onto the wall. “For a prince, he cares a lot about his subjects.” 

“Yes,” she agreed quickly. “He does.” 

Lancelot glanced at her, but she steadfastly kept her gaze down towards the training ground. 

“My lady…” he started, but she cut him off.

“Merlin’s doing much better as well,” she said briskly. “Gwaine said he was walking this afternoon.” 

“That is good to hear,” Lancelot said, slightly sadly as he looked away. 

“I think he’s worried that we’re all going to start telling people about his – gifts,” she went on. 

“Well he has nothing to fear for my part,” Lancelot said. “I have kept his secret these past years without betrayal.”

At that, Gwen did turn to him, hearing something in his words perhaps, hearing the word ‘betrayal’ lying clear in the sentence like an ink stain on a page. “Lancelot,” she said, then faltered, not knowing what to say. 

He turned to her as well, his face unreadable. “My lady,” he said. When she said nothing further, he started again. “Guinevere,” he said, his voice softer. “Have I done something to offend you?” 

“No, no, you haven’t,” she insisted, shaking her head firmly. 

“Ever since your experience with the dragon,” he went on. “You have seemed – cold towards me. I would know why, and how I can remedy this.” 

She shook her head again, tears starting unbidden in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she insisted. “I don’t know what happened. I just – it’s this feeling.” 

“What sort of feeling?” he wondered, feeling the world close off around them, feeling all his attention focus on her and her words. 

She seemed uncertain. “I don’t know how to explain it,” she said. “It’s silly.” 

“Tell me, please.” 

She sighed, trying to find the words. “I just feel that somehow, you were a part of what I saw when I was – helping Merlin. When I was in his visions? And that somehow, you were very important, and I can’t explain why,” she said. “I feel that some time in the future – I don’t know – I just feel that you’re going to be part of my life forever, and I don’t know what that means. Lancelot,” she reached down and took his hand, looking him firmly in the eye. “I am in love with Arthur. And I know that it’s strange and unusual, and that people won’t accept us, and that it might never happen, but we’re in love. What happened between us was very special to me,” she whispered those words. “You are very special to me, and I suppose I’m scared because I don’t know what that means for the future. And when I look at you, it’s like I know something, but I don’t know what it is.” 

Lancelot just smiled, and placed his other hand over hers. “My lady,” he said gently. “From the moment I realised that you had feelings for Arthur and him for you, I stepped back from what we were.” It seemed that she would comment at that, but he hurried on. “You cannot help your feelings, and above all else in this world, I would wish you happy. That’s all I have ever wanted for you: just to be happy. And whatever you saw in the future, it doesn’t matter. What matters is how we feel, and the knowledge that we would never hurt each other.” 

She smiled back at him, tears welling up again. 

“I’ll bet you anything,” he said. “That what you saw was our friendship continuing, maybe changing over the years, maybe we grow apart at some point. But I know also that we certainly will be important to each other forever. Because I could never imagine feeling any differently towards you.”

There was a shout and a clang from down below them, and they both looked over the battlements, realizing that Arthur was now on the field and that the training session had begun. 

“I must go,” Lancelot said, withdrawing his hand. 

“Thank you,” she said genuinely, suddenly wishing he’d stay, that they could talk more. 

“My lady, it has been and always will be an honour to serve,” he said with a slight bow, then he turned to go. 

And her blood chilled at his words; the sense overwhelmed her that she had heard them before, somewhere, some time out of place and out of finding. 

She put her hand out to the battlements, gripping the cold stone in an attempt to anchor herself, feeling her grip on the world slip slightly, as faint flashes filled her mind of a crown and herself as queen. Then the moment passed, and she was just Gwen again, a maidservant, a no one in that grand castle. 

She pulled herself up and away from the battlement feeling strength flow into her once more. No. Not a no one. Not in this great kingdom. She had her friends, she had her Arthur, and she held the dream of Camelot close to her heart. 

And whatever the future would hold, whatever things were waiting for them all around the corner and out of sight, they would come no matter what. All she could do, all any of them could do, was wait and see. 

FIN


End file.
